


Bloodsinger

by Rol



Series: Unfinished HP Plot Bunnies [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Bashing, Creature Fic, Creature Harry Potter, Dark Harry, Dark!Harry, Dementor's Kiss, Derogatory Language, Evil Albus Dumbledore, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gay Harry Potter, Growing Up, Insane Voldemort, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini, Moral Ambiguity, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Not-so-nice characters who don't care, Sexual Fantasy, Swearing, Underage Drinking, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Weird Morals, Wizarding Culture (Harry Potter), Wizarding Traditions (Harry Potter), Wizarding World (Harry Potter), creature!Harry, sort of slow burn but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24478483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rol/pseuds/Rol
Summary: A few weeks after Voldemort's resurrection, Harry Potter is saved from Privet Drive by a mysterious figure. Free for the first time in his life to make his own choices, Harry decides to live his life at the fullest, no matter what anyone else thinks.Darkish!Harry, moral ambiguity, sexual situations, growing up, Wizarding culture is weird
Relationships: Fenrir Greyback & Harry Potter, Fenrir Greyback/Harry Potter
Series: Unfinished HP Plot Bunnies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768108
Comments: 77
Kudos: 611





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written many years ago and published on another site, under a different account name. I polished it up and decided to publish it again.  
> Warning: it will probably never be completed

Standing at the entrance of the Maze, Harry looked back at the stands surrounding the Quidditch Pitch, wanting to wave at the Weasleys. Almost immediately though, his eyes were pulled to the right, and he found himself staring in the most captivating eyes he had ever seen. They were pale green, and they belonged to a child that was at most seven years old. He was so distracted by them that he almost missed Bagman’s whistle, signaling the beginning of the Third Task. Startled, he ran into the maze, soon forgetting those mesmerizing eyes as he fought for his life.

* * *

A hooded form moved quickly between the houses of Privet Drive, pausing only momentarily at the edge of Number Four. The lamplight illuminated the figure’s feminine form as it climbed the wall and quickly snuck inside a second floor window. Silently looking around, the woman noticed the caged owl staring curiously at her and the worn and sparse furniture in the little room, before concentrating on the sleeping child. Padding closer, she noticed that the boy was having a nightmare and he was whimpering and trembling in his sleep. Leaning over him, she brushed her hand over his face, trying to comfort him. A horrified gasp escaped her lips when she saw the child’s forehead: Black Magic was swirling around a scar marring his young face, containing inside something even more sinister. Unfortunately, the boy chose that moment to groggily open his eyes, and the woman quickly hid away her surprise and disgust.

“Who are you?” the boy asked, still only half awake.

“They call me Cassandra, child,” she answered softly, “come, pack your things, you’re coming with me.”

“Where to? And did Dumbledore send you?”, the child asked, but started packing his things all the same.

The woman only hummed noncommittally in answer, while unlocking the snowy owl’s cage and releasing her outside the window. After a few minutes, Harry broke the silence again, “My trunk with my school things is downstairs locked in the cupboard.”

The woman moved to lead the way out of the room, but stopped in front of the door: “The door is locked from the outside…”, she said, looking at the boy in surprise, “how do you get out?”

“My Aunt locked it. She lets me out whenever she remembers or when there are chores to do. …wait how did you get in?”

“Through the window…” the woman whispered, a horrified expression on her face. Shaking her head to clear it, she turned around again, opening the door with a burst of magic, not noticing the flabbergasted expression on the child’s face at the nonchalant display of magic. Windless magic at that. Repeating the process on the cupboard door, and retrieving the boy’s trunk, she quickly lead the way outside, and down the street.

Finally outside the Blood Wards surrounding Number Four, she held out her hand, and apparated both of them to the other side of Britain.

* * *

Stumbling a bit, Harry tried to catch his breath after his first ever apparition, and decided that he absolutely loathed wizarding travel methods. Looking around, he noticed that they had landed in the middle of a forest, though a few houses could be seen not far from there. Staring at the sleeping village in the forest, it for some reason reminded Harry of the Merry Men living in the Sherwood Forest. Robin Hood was a story Harry had loved when he was a child. It really looked like a secluded, peaceful place, and Cassandra’s presence at his side relaxed him even more. He had no idea why she had such a calming effect on him, and why he just knew that he could trust her. It was a novel experience for Harry, who usually was very suspicious of people and never trusted those he didn’t know well. After all, it had taken him almost two years to completely trust Ron and Hermione. After Ron had abandoned him after his name had come out of the Goblet, he had felt more betrayed than ever before, and even though he had said that he had forgiven him, Harry knew that he would never trust Ron so completely again.

After giving the kid a smile, Cassandra started striding towards the houses, lowering her hood. Harry observed her in the moonlight as they walked: she looked to be in her early twenties, with blond hair in a messy ponytail. Her most striking feature were her pale blue eyes: Harry couldn’t really say why, but there was something captivating about them, and they held a certain maturity which you wouldn’t expect in someone so young.

They had arrived in the village, and Harry looked around: all the houses were made of wood, and looked little more than cabins. The only one which stuck out was a brick two story house situated in what looked like the central square, and it was one of the few which still had lights coming from inside, despite the late hour. Cassandra opened the door and gestured to leave his trunk in the entry hall, before leading Harry to the kitchen, where a man and a child where waiting for them.

Harry gasped: the child was the one he had seen at the Triwizard Tournament! The only reason he recognized him were the pale green eyes, similar in intensity to Cassandra’s, which were now staring intently at his scar. Now that he was closer, Harry noticed that the boy was blond, and he looked like the type of child who made elderly ladies stop in the street to coddle and praise him, he was so beautiful.

“Who’s this?”, the man asked. He was very tall and muscular, looked to be in his early thirties, and had long dark brown hair, flowing over his shoulders, but it was his amber eyes that immediately caught Harry’s attention: those were a werewolf’s eyes. He had already seen eyes like his, every time that Remus Lupin got really angry or excited.

“Oh Merlin! I actually forgot! I didn’t even ask your name! I’m so sorry dear, but I was really in a hurry to get out of there, you know?”, Cassandra rambled, looking at him with guilt filled eyes.

“Er… my name is Harry Potter.”

Cassandra smiled obliviously at him, while the child snorted, and the man just sat there with a horrified expression.

“Well, Harry, it’s a pleasure to meet you! This is going to be your new home from now on, unless you wish to stay somewhere else that is, but you’ll always be welcome here anyways… still, maybe it’s best if we explain the situation tomorrow morning, when we’ll be more awake an-”

“What! Are you insane!”, the man suddenly yelled, stirring from his shock, “Do you want to get me killed? What the hell were you thinking? Harry Bloody Potter?!”, the werewolf raged, his eyes even brighter than before.

“Wh-what? I-I don’t…”

“Mother,” the child’s voice interrupted the man’s tirade, “Harry Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived. You know, the kid they have been slandering in that Daily Prophet rag the last few weeks? Voldemort’s enemy?”

“Oh… oh!” Cassandra’s eyes grew round in comprehension, and she gazed thoughtfully at him. A few minutes passed in silence, Harry fidgeting nervously, and the werewolf trying to reign his temper in.

“Cassy,” the man suddenly declared, “give him to me. I’ll bring him to the Dark Lord.”

“Don’t be ridiculous Fenrir!” the child immediately protested, “he’s a Potential! There is no way that we’re setting him up to die! And what for? That idiotic wizard with delusions of grandeur that you love to grovel for?” the man growled, and looked about to attack the kid, when Cassandra interfered, a furious expression on her face:

“No.”

The woman’s chilly answer was enough to put an immediate end to the discussion, and the werewolf left the kitchen cursing, and slamming the front door so hard the whole house shook. Heaving a sigh, Cassandra put a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder, and steered him upstairs, levitating his trunk behind them. They entered a room all decked in shades of green, with a bed, dresser, desk and private bathroom attached, which Cassandra told Harry was going to be his own personal room from now on. Harry almost didn’t hear her explain that they ate breakfast in the kitchen around eight in the morning, and apologize for Fenrir’s horrible manners. The moment that she stepped out of the room, wishing him a good night, he collapsed on the bed and immediately fell asleep, without even taking off his shoes, and with no nightmares to disturb his sleep for the first time in a long time.

* * *

Harry woke with the sun streaming on his face. He blinked groggily, looking around the room, and trying to remember when he had painted his room green. His memories from last night suddenly came back to him, and he immediately shot up from the bed, panicked: he had blindly followed a complete stranger to who knows where! In the middle of the night, with Voldemort hell-bent on killing him! Oh he was so screwed! It was the most idiotic thing he had ever done! And he had done quite a few stupid things in his life!

Breathing heavily, and trying to control his panic, he crept down the stairs, his wand firmly in hand. He was debating whether he should try making a run for it or not, when Cassandra called his name from the kitchen. Reluctantly, he entered the room warily, where she greeted him with a peck on the cheek, ignoring his wand, and somehow making his panic disappear with such a simple gesture. She then distractedly told him to sit down next to Joshua and went back to cooking breakfast. Seeing as the green-eyed child was the only one there, Harry guessed that was his name, and sat down. Cassandra soon served them bacon and eggs, and poured him some apple juice.

“Do you know you have a Horcrux in your forehead?”, Joshua suddenly asked, gazing curiously at him.

“E-excuse me?”

“A Horcrux. Using a Black Magic ritual and a human sacrifice, a wizard can split a part of their soul and store it somewhere else, in order to achieve immortality. Someone stored a piece of their soul in your forehead.”, the child stated matter-of-factly, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘I bet my villa in Spain that it was Voldemort’ under his breath.

“Oh, so that’s what it is?” Cassandra inquired, “I was wondering about it… I noticed the Black Magic of course, but I hadn’t understood what it contained with such a limited time to study it.”

Noticing Harry’s pallor and completely horror-struck expression, she gently asked him, “Didn’t you know, dear? Haven’t you ever been to a Healer before?”

“Y-yes, in Hogwarts' hospital wing…”

“And the mediwitch there never told you anything? She didn’t even try to remove it?”

Frantically shaking his head, Harry clasped his hands together under the table, trying to stop their shaking, and didn’t notice the grim look that passed between the two blonds.

“Well!” Cassandra suddenly exclaimed, startling Harry out of his horrified thoughts and returning panic, “that’s not a problem! I can remove it for you. What do you think? We could do the ritual today, as soon as you finish breakfast.”

“R-really? You could? T-thank you Ma’am!”

Cassandra just smiled gently at him, and told him off for not calling her ‘Cassy’, before hurrying quickly out, saying that she had to prepare the ritual circle.

“What’s a ritual circle?” Harry asked perplexed the moment she was out the room.

“Cassandra is a Ritual Master. She specializes in healing rituals and blood magic. A ritual circle is a space surrounded by runes and geometrical patterns, that conducts and amplifies for a certain purpose. You will have to stand inside one for this ritual.”

“Oh, I see… You know a lot.”

Joshua laughed and told Harry, “Of course I do! I’m not a child, I just look like one. I’m actually 45 years old, but since I was turned when I was five, I grow up at a much slower rate than humans. Cassy teases me by saying that my subconscious likes to be a kid, that’s why I grow up so slowly.”

“T-turned?”

“Yeah, I’m a Bloodsinger. Didn’t you notice the eyes and the teeth?” he asked, showing off his canines. Surprised, Harry wondered how he hadn’t noticed them before: they were more like fangs than teeth, curved and almost double the length of the other teeth. Feeling very ignorant, Harry flushed and asked:

“Uhm… what’s a Bloodsinger?”

Chuckling, Joshua replied, “Don’t worry, we’re quite rare. You grew up in a muggle household, right? It’s usually purebloods who remember the stories from the Old Days, you know, the time the muggles call the Middle Ages. Our species was much more common then, now we’re almost on the brink of extinction. Here, I’ll give you a book to read, while we wait for Mother. I’m actually pants at explaining things in a coherent manner.”

Running out of the room, Joshua came back a few minutes later with a thick tome labelled _Magical Humanoid Beings_ and opened it to the section on Bloodsingers, before handing it to Harry.

Harry soon became engrossed in the description of this species he had never heard of before:

**_Bloodsingers_ **

_Bloodsingers are commonly identified as the ‘_ _evolution of the Vampires ’_ _(see pg. 246). Like Vampires, they can be identified by they_ _long curved canines_ _, and their_ _pale mesmerizing eyes_ _, but unlike them they are not usually subjected to uncontrollable bloodlust. In fact, Bloodsingers very rarely feed on blood, only if they get close to a human who has a very enticing aroma, which is subjective to each individual Bloodsinger. Indeed, in normal circumstances, these beings_ _eat like normal humans_ _. Unlike Vampires, Bloodsingers are not nocturnal, and they_ _sleep an average of 4-5 hours a night_ _._

_The only way for a Bloodsinger to be created is by turning a_ **_Potential_ ** _._ _Turning_ _consists in biting a Potential and releasing venom in their blood stream. It causes mild weariness for 24 to 48 hours, while the body adapts to the changes._

_A Potential is a human being that has the capability of becoming a Bloodsinger, and can be identified easily by a fully developed Bloodsinger by the ‘_ **_Pull_ ** _’. This is a phenomenon that creates subconcious strong protective urges in the Bloodsinger towards the Potential, and feelings of trust in the Potential towards the Bloodsinger. Potentials can be Wizardfolk or Muggles, though it is rumoured that there have also been Potential Veela and Merfolk, but there is no recorded evidence of such cases. It is not quite known how Potentials manifest: it has in fact occurred quite a few times that a child born from two Bloodsingers was only a normal wizard, and not a Potential as would be usually expected._

_Bloodsingers have much_ _longer lifespans_ _than Muggles or Wizards, as their body normally ages about 1-2 years of age every 50 years of time. This of course means that Potentials that are turned very young live much longer than those turned when they are elderly. Also, the Potentials who used to be Muggles before their turning have shorter lifespans than Wizardfolk and, the bigger an individual’s magical power, the longer their natural life._

**_Species abilities_ ** _:_

_All Bloodsingers_ _see magic_ _. Most can easily distinguish between Light, Dark and Black Magic, but their real speciality are_ _Blood Magics_ _, of which they have a natural understanding and ability. Even Bloodsingers that used to be Muggles before their turning are gifted in Blood Magic: it is one of the very rare instances in which non-magical beings can learn to wield magic. Because of their magical sight, the best Ward Masters and spell inventors throughout history have in fact been Bloodsingers, a phenomenon that was especially common in the Aztec civilization, which was characterized by the greatest percentage of Bloodsingers in comparison to the population in the whole of the world’s known history._

_Bloodsingers share a very close bond, that has frequently been defined as ‘a natural alliance’, with_ _Werewolves_ _(see pg. 123), especially Natural-born Werewolves. In fact, both Bloodsingers and Natural-born Werewolves are beings characterized by their_ _complete control over their senses and instincts_ _for the majority of the time. Bloodlust or madness occur very rarely, only in the case of very intense emotions or truly extraordinary prey. Another similarity between these two species is that both are_ _dismissive of Vampires_ _: Werewolves like hunting Vampires for sport during the full moon, whereas Bloodsingers consider Vampires similarly to the way Wizardfolk consider House-elves (see pg. 354)._

_Sadly, Bloodsingers are nowadays_ _very rare_ _. This is a direct consequence of the thirty year long Great Blood War in the early 1600s, which wiped out the majority of the Bloodsingers and Potentials worldwide._

“Harry! I’m ready! Come outside, dear!”

Harry was startled from his reading by the sound of Cassandra’s voice, and hurried outside. A crowd had already gathered around where Cassy had drawn a big red circle, right in front of the house and on the pavement of the village’s main street. The circle was drawn in what looked suspiciously like muggle chalk sticks, and it was contained in a black octagon. Between the two shapes were written a multitude of green and yellow Runes, all in different sizes, and in no order that Harry could figure out. Inside the circle were Harry’s trunk and backpack, both of which he hadn’t yet unpacked. Motioning him forward, and making him stand in the middle of the circle, Cassandra quickly explained:

“This is a high level purification ritual. Modified from the mainstream inefficient standard one, of course. I made it so it will completely eliminate all outside unwanted interferences. It is your subconscious which will direct the spell, and that’s why I put your trunks in here too: any spell that has been applied to your things without your consent will be removed, and the same goes for your body. Moreover, since it’s originally a Light purification ritual, it will eliminate all traces of Dark and Black Magics from inside the circle. I already used a spell on your trunks, to check if you have any Dark artifacts inside which may be ruined in the ritual, but you don’t have any, so… you don’t mind do you? Sorry? I hadn’t actually meant to invade your privacy, but I get carried away when I’m setting up a ritual…”, she finished with a sheepish smile.

“Oh no, it’s all right… will you be able to tell which spells have been removed by the ritual afterwards?”

“If you wish, of course! Since I’m the Enhancer, the one who powers the ritual, I’ll be able to tell. Of course, I could miss a few if there are many, especially if it’s a spell I’m unfamiliar with, but I usually catch the majority. Just give me a moment to change a few things.”

Nodding, Harry watched her quickly erase and redraw a couple of the Runes, before carefully stepping outside the octagon, and kneeling on the ground. A hush fell on the crowd -which Harry noticed consisted mostly, if not completely, of Werewolves- who was loitering around the street and watching the ritual from a safe distance, and Harry began having second thoughts. After all, he was inside a ritual circle, made by a virtual stranger that he somehow trusted more than he had ever trusted anyone in his whole life, and the last (and only) ritual that he had ever witnessed had resulted in the rebirth of his worst enemy. Before his doubts could develop in a full-blown panic attack, Cassandra began murmuring in another language, though she spoke too lowly for Harry to distinguish which. The circle began to glow red, with the Runes and the octagon soon following, and Harry was traversed by a pleasant tingle, concentrated especially on his scar. The tingle though soon morphed in a painful burn on his scar and a blinding headache behind his eyes. Whimpering, Harry fell to his knees, holding his head. Just when the edges of his vision were starting to grow dark and he was about to pass out from the throbbing in his brain and forehead, the pain disappeared. Panting, he collapsed to the ground, completely exhausted. He was maneuvered to lie on his back, his head resting on someone’s lap, their fingers gently carding through his hair. Harry didn’t know how long he stayed there, catching his breath and trying to make the nausea pass, but when he finally opened his eyes, he noticed it was Cassandra’s lap on which he was resting. She was distracted, listening to Joshua, who was waving a wand towards Harry, and muttering angrily what looked like medical diagnostic spells, both their expressions grim. Still a bit out of it, and not understanding half the terms the child-adult was sprouting, Harry used the time to observe Cassy closely. Now that he knew what to look for, it was quite easy to recognize her as a Bloodsinger: she had pale skin, not marred by imperfections like normal humans, pale eyes that were slightly different from normal, though Harry couldn’t really pinpoint what the difference was, and whenever she opened her mouth, her long canines where visible to all.

“You’re a Bloodsinger”, Harry found himself stating without really meaning to.

Startled, Cassandra looked down at the teenager in her lap, and answered: “Yes, I am. And you’re a Potential, my dear. Come, let’s go discuss what happened inside, in front of a cup of tea.”

Stumbling slightly, Harry managed to stand, and shuffled inside, collapsing on the couch in the sitting room. Joshua curled up on an armchair, a murderous expression on his face, that looked very creepy on the face of a child, and Cassandra came back a few minutes later, settling on the couch next to him and handing him a cup of tea. Looking at Joshua and seeing that he had no intention of speaking, Cassandra began:

“There were quite a few spells on your belongings. The simplest ones to remove where a tracking charm on your trunk, one on your bag, and one on an item inside your trunk. And of course, the Ministry Trace on your wand is also gone.”

“W-what? What do you mean tracking charms? And wait, I can do magic during the summer now?”

“Yes, of course. The Trace is set during the wand construction, so once it’s removed, you can’t put it back.”

“Wow, I didn’t know that. Wait, what if someone who is of age breaks their wand and has to buy another?”

“The Trace works with magical maturity. So, if a child is using their parent’s wand during the holidays, it can still be tracked by the Ministry. Viceversa, if a parent uses their child’s wand, the Ministry doesn’t get notified. Anyway, this is not really important. What is important is that the ritual should have not hurt you that much. Yes, I was expecting some discomfort with the removal of the Horcrux, but I wasn’t counting on Mind Magic. You see, Harry dear, you had a Memory Charm and a couple Compulsions Charms on you. That’s why it hurt you so much.”

Horrified, Harry looked at Cassandra, hoping it was a joke, but seeing her serious expression, and Joshua glaring at the fireplace in stony silence, he realized that they were actually telling the truth. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Harry asked, “Can you tell me what they were for?”

“No, I’m sorry, I can’t. Though you will probably dream the memory that had been Obliviated from your conscious in the next few days, that’s what usually happens in these cases. As for the Compulsions, the most that I can tell you is that they had the same magical signature as the Memory Charm. So, if you find out who Obliviated you, you will also find who put those two Compulsions on you.”

Not very reassured, Harry only nodded numbly. Sensing the child’s distress, Cassy put a hand around his shoulders, and tugged him into her side. After a few minutes of leaning onto her, Harry finally relaxed in her hold.

“What am I going to do now?” he whispered, his voice breaking on the last word.

Breaking the silence, Joshua answered, “Nothing. You’re going to sign a document that gives Mother the authority to speak to your solicitor as your temporary guardian, and then you’ll let us adults take care of everything.”

Harry almost broke out in hysterical laughter when he heard the tiny seven-year-old refer to himself as an adult, but managed to keep silent. He didn’t manage to stop the tears from finally falling though, and was soon sobbing desperately on Cassandra’s shoulder. He had no idea how long he cried on her shoulder, and when he finally had no more tears to cry, the last thing he thought before falling asleep, listening to her gentle murmurs, and feeling her fingers card gently through his hair, was that this was probably what people felt when they had a mother.


	2. Chapter 2

Harry was woken up by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He immediately recognized the owner as Cassandra, telling him that it was dinnertime. He got up from the couch, a blanket falling off him, and shuffled to the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. There he found Joshua and the werewolf from the first night (Fenrir maybe?) already seated, while Cassandra was serving dinner.

“Do you need some help?”

“No, of course not dear. It’s my cooking day, anyway.”

“Cooking day?”

“Yes, of course. Joshua, Fenrir and I take turns cooking. It’s only fair after all.”

Harry nodded, surprised. All the homes to which he had been invited it was always the woman who cooked, Mrs Weasley and Aunt Petunia being the prime examples. But then, he realized that neither of them worked, while Cassandra probably did: she was a Ritual Master after all, whatever that meant. Thinking about it, he wondered who cooked in the Granger household, and resolved to ask Hermione. Thinking of his friends made him wonder when would be next time that he would see them, and new feelings of guilt and indecision immediately made themselves known. The dinner passed in silence, with Harry brooding, and he missed the speculative glances that Fenrir was sending his way. After clearing the plates, the four of them retired to the sitting room, where Cassy showed him an official looking document, which enabled her to speak as his temporary guardian to a solicitor and his estate manager in Gringotts. After walking him though the document, explaining the bureaucratic lingo for him, and answering all of his questions, Harry signed it, and they passed on to lighter topics.

“Your owl arrived as you were sleeping. Smart bird, that one. Not many owls manage to find this place. Oh, and do you like your room Harry? We can always change the colour scheme if you wish, or add some furniture. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“No, it’s all right, I like green. As long as it’s not Slytherin green.”

“You go to Hogwarts?”, Joshua interrupted, “Do you like it there?”

“Yes, very much! It’s like a second home to me.”

“Umpf. Too bad the standards have fallen so low. In the last century that school has gone from being the world’s best to a substandard education facility. Really, the English are so stiff and bigoted, it’s no wonder they’re falling behind.”

“Joshua! Please, leave the kid alone. It’s not his fault the Headmasters are doing such an awful job,” Cassandra rose to Harry defense. Not that it was much of a defense Harry thought, scowling.

“Oh, come on! Can you imagine having a Restricted Section in a library? Closing off all knowledge that isn’t perfectly Light! As if you can’t easily torture or kill people with Light spells too. Please, everyone knows that all the best healing spells are Dark. Why do you think so many rich British citizens go abroad when they have serious illnesses?”

“Not to mention the discrimination,” Fenrir interceded, “all the magical kids in my pack go to Durmstrang. It gives a much more rounded education and costs about half.”

“Costs? I thought Hogwarts was free. I mean, I never paid anything,” Harry wondered, “and they told me that my name had been down for Hogwarts since I was born.”

“Oh, then your parents probably paid all the fees in advance. Many people do. This way, they don’t have to worry about it every year and the price doesn’t suffer from inflation,” Cassandra reassured him.

Harry hummed in agreement, and listened silently as the discussion wore on and they migrated to the living room, feeling shy and out of his depth. He soon learned that Joshua hated standardized education and schools, but insisted that when he would finally look eleven he will enroll in a school just to create chaos. Cassandra insisted instead that kids should all go to school and then travel the world to round their magical education, while Fenrir liked to play the devil’s advocate and contradict everything the other two said. This finally irritated Joshua and Cassandra so much that they started a pillow fight against the man, in which Harry was somehow included, and which soon evolved in a tickle fight, with Cassandra tackling Harry and Joshua Fenrir, somehow managing to pin the werewolf to the ground despite the huge difference in height and mass.

Harry didn’t notice that it was the first time in months that he had actually had a good time and laughed freely, forgetting all of his problems. Half an hour later, they all went to bed, and Harry fell asleep with a smile on his face and no cares in the world.

* * *

The next day was spent exploring the werewolf village and the surrounding woods with Joshua, and playing football with a group of werewolf teens after lunch. Harry actually recognized one from the Durmstrang delegation that had been at Hogwarts the past year, and they struck up a conversation on the difference between their schools, joined by a few others who wanted to know more about Hogwarts from an inside source. None of them once commented on his scar, stared at him, or treated him differently than they did each other, and Harry wondered sadly if this was what being a normal teenager was like. A bitter pang of resentment and anger grew in his chest, surprising him with its intensity, and scaring him a little. Feeling completely off-kilter, he confided in Joshua when they got back to the house. The child gave him a long searching look, taking in his agitated face, and grimly told him:

“It’s probably an effect of the Compulsions having been lifted. The most I can speculate with so little evidence left behind is that one of the two probably muted what would be considered your ‘negative’ feelings. Anger, bitterness, resentment, vindictiveness, etcetera.”

“But why? Why would someone want to do something like that to me?”

“Probably to make you into a more amiable and malleable person. This way, if someone wronged or manipulated you and you found out, you would probably forgive them very quickly. For you to actually lose your temper, you would need quite a bit of stored resentment and anger.”

“You mean they made it so I wouldn’t lose my temper? They did it for me?”

Joshua snorted bitterly, “Don’t be ridiculous child. They did it for themselves. They muddied your mind to make sure that you would follow whatever path they had set for you. So what if you naturally have a temper? You’re a Potential, it’s typical: all Bloodsingers have fiery tempers! You should see Cassandra when she loses hers… you’re lucky that she’s been trying to rein it in for your sake. She doesn’t want to scare you, but she’s really protective of you, even more than I am, since she’s the one who found you. You’ll see tonight, she’ll probably be livid after having met with your solicitor. Don’t be scared of your emotions kid. Even if you do lose your temper, I promise you that we can take it… and it won’t be the worst we’ve seen.”

“I-I don’t know… I’ve never felt like this before, and I’m scared of hurting someone. I feel like a ticking time bomb!”

At this, Joshua actually laughed heartily, “You? Hurting us? Sweetheart, I’ll tell you a little something to put things in perspective. Some twenty years ago Mother and I had a huge fight for some inane reason that we can’t even remember. By the end of it, we had burned our whole house and half the block down with Fiendfyre. Do you know what that is?”

Harry shook his head no, blushing at the pet name, and Joshua explained, “Fiendfyre is cursed fire, one of the most powerful spells in existence. It’s hellishly difficult to control because it has a mind of its own, and it only stops when there is nothing left to burn. When the fight between Mother and I finished, we had to leave the country in a hurry before the Ministry there arrested us for the bloodbath, mass destruction and illegal spell usage… it’ll be a long time before we step foot in the United States again, even though we have the best lawyers in the world on retainer. And that’s just the first example off the top of my mind!” Joshua chuckled merrily, his eyes twinkling at the flabbergasted expression of Harry’s face.

“Oh… w-well that’s… intense?” Harry stuttered, searching for the right word, making Joshua cackle even louder. When he stopped, Harry quietly asked something that had been bothering him all day while hanging out with the teenage Werewolves, trying to change the topic:

“Joshua, what’s the difference between a Natural-born werewolf and a normal werewolf?”

The child-adult barely blinked at the non sequitur and then explained in what Harry had already dubbed his ‘teacher mode’:

“Well, the difference between the two is that Natural-born werewolves are already born with the gift, and don’t have to be bitten like the rest.”

“Gift?”

“Yes, being a Werewolf.”

“Oh… everyone I know calls it a curse…”

The seven-year-old snorted, “Of course they would. I’m sorry to tell you kid, but wizardfolk in the UK are some of the most bigoted and prejudiced people in the world. It’s the reason why most muggleborns here leave the country or return to the Muggle world at the end of their Hogwarts careers.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well, it’s kept under wraps in this country, but it’s a known fact in the rest of the magical world. Anyway, back to werewolves, Natural-borns have almost complete control of their senses during the full moon, and with training they can also learn to transform at will during the month. It’s sort of like the Animagus transformation, only much easier.”

“They can control themselves during the full moon? Wow… why have I never heard of this before?”

“Mostly. Fenrir says it’s a bit like being drunk. You can control what you’re doing but all your inhibitions are much lower. And you probably never heard of it because Natural-born werewolves are quite rare. In fact, I’m pretty sure there are only two of them in Britain at the moment. You see, at least one of their parents has to be a Werewolf, and it’s a one in a thousand chance. Even when both the parents are Werewolves, there’s only about one in a hundred chance of getting a Natural-born baby.”

“The chances are much higher than that if you have a Natural-born ancestor,” a voice interrupted, making Harry jump. Turning around, he saw Fenrir leaning on the doorjamb, watching him coldly, “Move it, dinner is ready.”

Shuffling quickly to the kitchen, Harry immediately noticed Cassandra sitting at the table, reading some documents, a furious expression on her face. The moment she spotted him though her face cleared, which was honestly quite creepy, and she quickly moved the parchments aside and happily inquired about his day. Fenrir served dinner, and the conversation soon moved to Quidditch. When Joshua found out that Harry had a Firebolt and played as Seeker just like him, he immediately scheduled a match for the next day, telling Harry that at least half the pack would be quite interested, and they would certainly have an over abundance of volunteers for the game. Even Fenrir looked interested, while Cassy raised a skeptical brow and remarked that heights and high velocity really weren’t her thing. After dinner, Harry went to sleep almost immediately, still completely exhausted physically for the previous day’s cleansing ritual, and mentally from the last days’ rollercoaster of emotions.

* * *

_Harry sobbed on the floor, his throat completely hoarse from screaming. His pained yells had subsided in pitiful whimpers, and he hurt so much that he almost didn’t notice when his Uncle hit him once more, this time in the chest. The next hit though managed to tear a tormented shriek from his throat, as the eight-year-old felt his left wrist break. A couple hits later, the child started retching blood on the floor, and a few minutes later he fell blissfully unconscious in a pool of his own blood and vomit._

_Consciousness returned slowly, and with it the memories of his last brutal beating by his drunken Uncle. Looking around, Harry blearily noticed that he was on the couch in the living room, and that his whole body hurt. At least, it wasn’t a sharp pain, even though he could have sworn that he felt his wrist and at least a couple of ribs break. Now, they only felt tender, and the rest of the pain was tolerable: it wasn’t the first time this happened after all, though this had been by far the worst._

_Hearing movement from the next room, and knowing that freaks weren’t supposed to dirty the furniture, Harry quickly climbed down from the couch, and peeked warily into the kitchen. There he saw one of the weirdest things ever: an elderly man with long white hair and beard, dressed in a yellow suit with purple flowers, was waving a stick in front of Uncle Vernon, and muttering in a weird language. Vernon’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, and he almost seemed to be drooling. The old man quickly finished waving the stick, and turned around towards Harry, motioning him forward._

_“Hello, my boy. Are you feeling well?”_

_Harry nodded numbly, scared of this weird man, even though he was looking at him with kind eyes._

_“Good, good. Now, I really have to go. We’ll see each other in three year’s time, though you won’t remember me. I can’t wait to have you in Gryffindor House! Ah well, all in good time.”_

_And with a last kind smile, the man pointed his stick at Harry, and muttered “Obliviate!”, followed by a string of weird words, and stick-waving. He then abruptly pocketed the piece of wood, and left the house, muttering to himself: “Good, like this I can be sure the kid won’t turn Dark. Now, how to make sure he doesn’t end in Slytherin? Have to gently coax his beliefs…” and he was out the door. Harry stood in the middle of the kitchen, watching his drunken Uncle with glassy eyes, and wondered why he felt like he had just forgotten something important._

* * *

Startling awake, Harry ran to his bathroom, and made it just in time. Retching in the toilet, desperate tears rolling down his face, he tried to delude himself into believing that it had just been a nightmare, but couldn’t shake away the feeling that this was in fact the memory which had been Obliviated from his mind. Trembling, he finally managed to shakily stand up and wash his mouth and face. Looking at the clock, he noticed that only an hour had passed from when he had gone to sleep, so he made his way downstairs, hoping that Cassandra and Joshua were still awake.

He found the door to the sitting room ajar, voices coming from inside. Pausing a moment to gather his courage, Harry heard Cassandra’s irate voice:

“He didn’t even have a solicitor, can you believe that? I went to speak with Gunnard in the end, they say he’s the best in Britain. He’s going to sue the Prophet and the Ministry tomorrow for the slander campaign, together with both Hogwarts and their Mediwitch for severe negligence. Really, make a fourteen-year-old compete in that Triwizard Tournament thing? Who’s the idiot who made him do it? Everyone knows that magical binding contracts only stick if you’ve stopped growing and reached magical maturity! And that’s not the only criminally negligent thing either! He encountered a troll at eleven! And a rumoured Basilisk and petrifications in his second year! He was almost Kissed by Dementors in third year! Unbelievable!”

“Have you talked about the abuse?” Joshua interrupted her tirade.

“Yes, he’s filing a lawsuit in both the Magical and the Muggle world against his Aunt and Uncle. Gunnard is pretty sure they’ll be looking at years of jail time. Have you found your notes for the nutritional potions and the cream for scarring?”

“No, I’m almost sure I left them in Spain. I was thinking about going tomorrow evening or the day after.”

“How about a vacation then? We go to Spain for a couple of days, and then we move to my new house in Croatia. The kid will enjoy the beach I think. He’s sickly pale, and almost anorexic. Some change of scenery will do him good. Are you coming too Fenrir?”

“No.” the Werewolf’s gruff voice answered, “I have things to do, and Voldemort is breathing down my neck. I swear the man is even more insane than fifteen years ago. And Potter? Stop loitering outside the door like an idiot and come inside.”

Jumping, Harry flushed in shame at getting caught eavesdropping and shuffled inside. Cassandra gave him a worried look, and gently dragged him on the couch beside her.

“We were just talking about you, dear, and what happened at the solicitor’s. Are you alright? You look pale. Couldn’t you sleep?”

Shocked that Cassandra hadn’t tried to lie and cover up their conversation as most adults would have done, Harry shook his head and, glancing warily at Fenrir, he whispered, “I had a dream…”, his voice breaking at the end. Comprehension lit Cassandra and Joshua’s faces and the two of them shared a grim look.

“You dreamed about the memory? Did you find out who Obliviated you?” Cassy asked gently, squeezing his shoulders reassuringly. Tears pricking his eyes, Harry explained what had happened:

“Yeah… it happened when I was about eight I think. My Uncle beat me half to death, and Dumbledore showed up. He cured the worst injuries and then Obliviated both of us. He also put another spell on us, something with a long Latin incantation. Do you think that could have been the Compulsions?”

“Did it sound something like this?” Joshua asked, before chanting out a litany of Latin words while waving his wand arm in the air in a specific familiar pattern.

“Yes, it sounded and looked similar…”

“Then it was probably the Compulsion.”

Stony silence met the child’s declaration, and Harry looked at their grim faces worriedly. Joshua looked like he was about to go on a rampage, Cassandra looked on the verge of tears and even Fenrir looked disgusted. Harry in contrast, suddenly felt a wonderful thrill travel through him: he had never had anyone who actually cared about him only for himself and not his fame or his name, and yet here he was, surrounded by people who actually protected him just because they wanted to and that didn’t try to hide things from him ‘for his own good’. Shaking his head, Harry realized that he was probably still in shock, because he still couldn’t really wrap his head around the fact that Dumbledore had Obliviated and placed him under two Compulsion Charms. Not only that, but he actually knew first-hand how bad his life was at the Dursleys’, and he still insisted that he go back to live there every summer! Hell, he probably even knew that he had to sleep in a boot cupboard, and he hadn’t even done anything to change that!

Cassandra’s voice shook him from his musings, asking him if he was alright. When Harry nodded, she proceeded to explain all that had transpired with his new solicitor, whose name was apparently Mark Gunnard and who worked in the largest lawyer firm in Magical Britain. Most of the things were what Harry had already heard while eavesdropping, though she also added that he should have been getting documents from his estate manager in Gringotts at least once a semester. Seeing as Harry didn’t even know that he _had_ an estate manager, she had soon discovered that somebody had set up an owl post block without his knowledge, which gave Gunnard one more person to sue. After she finished explaining everything, Cassandra asked him if he wanted to perhaps give Pensieve memories of every time he had felt threatened, was in a life and death situation or simply of when something fishy was going on. She promised that the only one who would see them was his lawyer and his trustworthy team, who were all magically bound by stringent client confidentiality contracts, and that even she wouldn’t look at them. The memories would help the lawyers to build the best possible case for Harry, guaranteeing a smooth, quick victory, so Harry spent the next half hour extracting memories and putting them in little labelled vials that Joshua had obtained in the meantime. Unfortunately, Pensieve memories couldn’t be used in court unless they were extracted in front of the jury, so if the lawyers decided they were absolutely needed as evidence in court, Harry would have to personally attend those specific court proceedings. Finally finished extracting the memories, Harry started climbing the stairs to go to bed, after receiving a hug and an ‘I’m so proud of you’ from Cassandra which made a warm fuzzy feeling settle in his stomach and a silly grin appear on his face.

Before reaching his room he was stopped by Joshua, who gave him a muggle diary and pen, and told him that he should use it to sort his thoughts and ideas after the upheaval in his life in the last days, which was especially important since he’d just been freed from two Compulsions. Feeling completely overwhelmed, Harry just nodded, and went back to bed, resolving to think about it the next day.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning was completely dedicated to Quidditch. Two teams were formed, and Harry found himself competing against Joshua. It was one of the few times in which his rival Seeker was actually a match for him: the only one who had ever gotten close was Cedric, and even he hadn’t been quite at Harry’s level. Joshua instead used his small stature as an advantage, and pulled even more crazy stunts than Harry did. He had a Nimbus 2001, so they were almost on par, and yet Harry only managed to catch the Snitch three times out of five. Even so, everyone had a wonderful time, even though the werewolf teenagers played really dirty, and the boy who was acting as referee yelled himself hoarse trying to keep everyone in line. Still laughing, Harry and Joshua headed back home, and after a quick shower, Harry started making lunch. He had never cooked in a magical kitchen, and it took him a few minutes of getting used to, but he quickly settled into a rhythm, the familiar motions coming naturally to him, despite the different surroundings. It was only when he turned around to get another ingredient from the cupboard that he noticed both Joshua and Fenrir staring at him from the doorway. Startled, he flushed in embarrassment, and immediately began to worry that he was in trouble, because he hadn’t even asked permission to use the kitchen. To his surprise, Joshua only chuckled and commented:

“Don’t be so self-conscious. You’re adorable when you’re concentrating.”

Fenrir scoffed and made his way to the table, while Harry spluttered indignantly at being called adorable, and Joshua just laughed merrily, before reminding Harry that Cassy wouldn’t be home for lunch.

The conversation at lunch revolved around Quidditch, Joshua telling Fenrir that one of his werewolves showed some real promise as a Beater, and he should have him try out for a professional team if the kid was interested. After lunch, Fenrir disappeared outside again and Joshua retired to the potion’s lab. When Harry asked him why, the kid looked at him blankly and told him that he was a world renown Potion Master, and had he seriously never heard the name Joshua before? When Harry just shrugged sheepishly, Joshua rolled his eyes and muttered indignantly something that sounded suspiciously like ‘ignorant Englishmen, how dare they not know my name?’ and stalked to the dungeons. Sniggering at Joshua’s comic act, Harry went back to his room, and finally unpacked his clothes: Cassandra had mock sternly told him at breakfast that she would check over his whole wardrobe, and all the clothes which didn’t pass her inspection would be thrown out. She had then started blabbering nonstop about the wonderful clothes stores they would find in Spain, and all the shopping trips they would go on, and maybe she could bring him to France and Italy on a shopping day-trip too? Thankfully, seeing his very real panic, Joshua had come to Harry’s rescue, calming her down and telling her to let poor Harry breathe. Still, now that he thought back on it with a clearer head, Harry wondered that maybe he would have a good time going shopping with Cassandra. She seemed to prefer muggle clothes to robes, just like almost everyone else in this village, and only used a hooded cloak in the evenings when it was a bit chillier and, since Harry preferred muggle fashion too, he admitted to himself that she would probably give him good fashion tips.

That settled, Harry had just decided to start on his summer homework, when he noticed lying on his desk the diary Joshua had given him the night before. Looking at it askance for a minute or two, Harry finally decided to follow his advice. Settling down and breathing deeply to gather his courage, Harry divided the first page in two columns and began writing all the positive things Headmaster Dumbledore had done for him on one, and all the negative things on the other. Fifteen minutes later he gave up, having run out of ideas a long time before, and he sadly looked back at all he had written: the column with the negative impressions was completely full and went on for another two pages, whereas the positive column consisted in:

_Dumbledore:_

  * _Is my Headmaster_
  * _Was kind to me_
  * _Sent Hagrid to pick me up for Diagon Alley_
  * _Made Gryffindor win the House Cup in first year_
  * _Is owner of Fawkes, who saved me from Basilisk_
  * _Told Hermione to use the Time-Turner and save Buckbeak and Sirius_
  * _Didn’t get angry when I looked in his Pensieve_



Biting his lips and trying to keep the tears at bay, Harry desperately tried to think about other positive things about Dumbledore, but in the end only came up with the end of first year when Dumbledore had refused to tell him the reason why Voldemort wanted him dead, which certainly wasn’t anything positive! And thinking about it, he _still_ didn’t know why that madman had tried to kill him when he was a baby!

Looking back forlornly at the very short list, his eyes fell on the point about the Time-Turner at the end of third year, and he was stuck with a horrifying thought: why had the Headmaster made two thirteen year olds got back in time to a dangerous situation? He actually personally told them to save a Hippogriff about to be executed, and free a convicted prisoner. And Dumbledore _knew_ that they had to hide in the woods while surrounded by a transformed Werewolf and a swarm of Dementors! Why hadn’t he gone back in time himself instead of making them go? This discovery suddenly hit Harry worse than all the other discoveries of the last few days, even the Compulsions, because he couldn’t lie to himself and say that it was done for his own good and to protect him.

And for the first time since Cassandra had started talking about solicitors and suing Hogwarts and the Headmaster, all the doubts Harry had and had been too intimidated to express -that this wasn’t a good idea, that Dumbledore didn’t deserve it, that he certainly had good reasons for everything he did- completely vanished, replaced by a bitter determination to see this through to the end.

* * *

That afternoon Cassandra came back a few hours before dinner, and the two of them started checking over Harry’s clothes together, before moving to all the rest of his possessions. Harry had a really good time, though he was really tense, nervous and a bit embarrassed at first. He was surprised at first that Cassy asked his opinion on things, and was very gentle in her criticisms, telling him her reasons for her every opinion, but he soon realized that she had a completely different character in comparison to Mrs Weasley, who was the only mother he had seen in action (and Aunt Petunia didn’t count, because she always just let Dudley do whatever he wanted). Cassandra actually managed to make him promise to take better care of himself, and when he jokingly told her that his hair was a lost cause, a determined glint entered her pale eyes, and with a dark smile full of fangs, she set about trying to tame it, snipping at it with a conjured pair of scissors and waving her wand. Ten minutes later she pushed him in front of the mirror, and Harry could only stare at the stylish mess on top of his head. Chuckling, Cassandra taught him the simple charms she had found worked on his hair and could keep it in place, and then made him practice them till he got them perfectly. Harry was still delighted at being able to use magic during the summer, and he was very eager about keeping his new cool hairstyle.

“Wonderful!”, she clapped her hand enthusiastically, bouncing around the room like a kid, “The girls will fall at your feet when you go back to school! You’ll have new clothes, cool hair, a tan, some meat on those bones and no glasses! You’re already handsome now, in September you’ll be drop-dead gorgeous!”

“What do you mean no glasses?”

“Oh well, your vision will improve a lot when you’ll be turned. We’ll do it at the end of August I think, so you’ll have time to take all those supplementary nutritional potions, and repair the damage those horrid muggles did by starving you.”

“T-turned?” Harry squeaked.

“Well, yes… I thought you wanted to become a fully developed Bloodsinger. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think that you might be against it. It’s completely your choice, of course, we’ll always be happy to have you here, whether you Turn or whether you decide to remain a normal wizard for the rest of your life.”

“Wh-what, no! I mean yes! I’d like to become a Bloodsinger! It’s just… I don’t really know much about it at all… and I’m scared I’ll lose control or something, and hurt someone. But if it helps me fight Voldemort…”

“Wait a minute! That’s hardly a good reason to decide on such a life-altering decision! And why in the world would you have to fight that madman anyway?”

“Well, I’m the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“And…?”, the Bloodsinger asked, looking honestly puzzled.

“And? What do you mean and? People expect me to fight him!”

Cassandra snorted and commented bitterly:

“That Dumbledore moron really did a number on you did he? Harry, why in the world do you care about other people’s expectations? Especially strangers’ expectations? Why would you want to put your life on the line to fight against a madman for people who supposedly put all their hope on a fourteen-year-old kid? If you had told me that you wanted to fight Voldemort for revenge, for killing your parents, I would have let you do it, and helped you achieve your goal too. Instead, I’ll never help and encourage you with something that you want to do because people _expect_ ” she spat the word, “it from you, and are too cowardly to do themselves. Harry, darling, you already lost your whole family and any chances of a happy childhood to this war, why do you let people tell you that you have to sacrifice yourself too?”

Shocked at the brutal way in which Cassandra had exposed her ideas, Harry realized that he had never looked at the facts from that perspective. She made him suddenly realize that he had already sacrificed too much for a war in which he wanted no part, and that defeating Voldemort wasn’t _his_ job: he had already stopped him for 13 years anyway, and confronted him four times! Why should he be the one who had to kill him? He certainly deserved a break!

Lost in his musing, Harry was startled when he felt warm arms embrace him, but soon melted into the hug.

“Please don’t ever think that killing the Dark Lord is your job again Harry. You already did way more than you should have. Let the adults take care of it now. It’s none of your business if this stupid Ministry of yours insists in its denial. They’re all adults, they can take care of themselves, and it’s their own choice if they want to spend their life in blissful ignorance. There’s nothing more that you can do child, and nothing more that you _have_ to do.”

Nodding against Cassandra’s shoulder, Harry tried to keep his tears at bay, ashamed of them and feeling like a crybaby for all the crying he’d done since he moved here. So, he was astonished when they broke up their hug, and Cassy nonchalantly wiped her eyes with her sleeve, not looking the least bit ashamed of having cried in his hair. Smiling gently at the surprised teenager, Cassandra took his hand and dragged him to the kitchen, where Joshua was preparing dinner. Sitting down, she suddenly remembered:

“Oh yes! Before I forget: remind me that we’ll have to go check a wand shop for you before the end of the summer. Now that you don’t have the Horcrux, your magical signature may have altered, though it will certainly change again when you’re turned. Also, you may start seeing in the next couple of weeks that you have much more magic at your disposal. You see, we theorized that a big portion of your magic was always working at keeping the Horcrux at bay, continuously depleting your reserves. To put it simply, you might just have become more powerful,” she explained with an impish smile.

Not knowing what to make of yet another new development in his life, Harry nodded silently and examined his holly wand, unsure of his feelings and feeling anxious.

“And anyway, everyone should have a backup wand,” Joshua nonchalantly said as everyone started eating, “the number of times I heard English Aurors complaining that a crook managed to escaped after a lucky disarming charm! Serves the idiots right! You call yourself a professional and you don’t even have a spare? And never mind wandless magic, those morons don’t even know what it means!” and Joshua was off on one of his longwinded rants, insulting the way things were done in half the world in the meantime. Sharing a glance with Cassandra, Harry hid his smile behind his glass, eerily reminded of some of fake-Moody’s rants in Defense class, but with his mood slowly lifting… just like Joshua had intended.

* * *

The next morning after breakfast Joshua, Cassandra and Harry walked outside the Werewolf village’s wards, and Cassy quickly created a Portkey. Seeing Harry’s shocked look, the woman haughtily explained that she didn’t believe in laws restricting magical traveling methods, and that they were only in effect in Europe and North America anyway, whereas in the rest of the world everyone was free to create their own Portkeys and enchant their own magical carpets or travel means. She then offered to teach Harry how to do it and he haltingly agreed, still a bit dubious about it all. Feeling very nervous and remembering his last disastrous travel by Portkey, Harry gathered his courage and touched the Portkey, being whisked away with the other two. They landed in an alley in the outskirts of Madrid a couple of minutes later and, seeing Harry fall gracelessly on the ground, Joshua proceeded with giving a variety of tips on portkeying, and then on flooing and other travel methods, leaving Harry to wonder why no one had ever told him such useful things before. After a short walk the trio found themselves in front of Joshua’s Spanish villa, where they were warmly welcomed by a house-elf called Binty.

Joshua disappeared immediately in his potion labs, and after a quick stop to the loo, Cassandra and Harry went back out and walked to the Spanish counterpart of Diagon Alley, Calle Madrileña, which Harry was surprised to note was not actually in central Madrid like Diagon Alley in London, but in the suburbs, very close to Joshua’s house.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry and Cassy spent the rest of the day in Calle Madrileña shopping for clothes and generally buying whatever caught their fancy. Or rather, Cassandra bought everything Harry just looked at with interest, not even letting him use his own money, saying that he could pay her back when he had a well-paid job, regardless of how much he insisted. She stated that she had more money than she knew what to do with, and spoiling him was fun anyway. Though the day, they repeatedly called Binty the house elf to take their bags back home whenever they got too cumbersome or too heavy, so they only realized the true extent of their purchases when they got back home and found all their bags in a heap in the sitting room. Harry was gobsmacked and would have believed it to be Christmas if not for the high temperature and lack of festive decorations. His impression was only furthered when after dinner Joshua and Harry sat on the sofa, with Cassy on the floor sorting through their purchases one by one, and Joshua beaming excitedly every time she got out something that was meant for him or that he particularly liked. Harry thought that it was one of the few times when he has seen him actually behave like a kid: even when playing Quidditch or football, Joshua was still a very serious person, and very rarely let go. Do he did like to run around the house whenever he got a little excited.

Cassandra finally unpacked Harry’s personal favourite: a trunk with multiple compartments even better than the one Alastor Moody had. It was meant to be kept vertical and had a password for each of the four different compartments. It had a wardrobe with hangers and drawers, a rotating compartment which could hold up to 150 books, and two compartments full of shelves, one of which actually had a little cold cupboard, the wizard version of a fridge, that Harry immediately resolved to use for his secret chocolate stash, which was in serious danger of messy melting because of Spain’s high temperatures. They had found the trunk in an antique shop and it had obviously cost a fortune, but Harry didn’t know how much exactly because Cassy had managed to keep it secret.

Back in his room, Harry later finished hanging his new clothes and putting away his many new books in his new wardrobe-trunk, and then went back down to chat quietly with Cassy and Joshua before bed. Despite the late hour and being exhausted -who knew that shopping could be so draining?- Harry felt more content than he had in a long time.

* * *

The next day, Cassy and Harry portkeyed to Cassandra’s private Unplottable little island in Croatia. Harry was astonished that she actually owned an entire island, but Cassandra just laughed and told him that for the Croatian Wizardfolk, islands were just like Manors in England: all the well-to-do families had one. She showed him a Muggle map of the country and then a Wizarding one, and Harry immediately noticed the huge number of islands which were missing from the Muggle one: and that wasn’t even taking in consideration all the Unplottable locations like Cassy’s island that didn’t show up on maps!

Cassandra then showed him excitedly around, happy to show off her property, which she had apparently only acquired in the last year. The island consisted of a comfortable house (with a sweet little house-elf called Fluffy –whose name had Harry valiantly keeping back gales of laughter), a garden, an orchard and a jetty with a magical sailing boat. You could easily walk from one side of the island to the other in ten minutes! Harry immediately fell in love with the place, and the next week was spent swimming, sunbathing, sailing –to which Harry took an instant shine- and reading, debating or practicing magic in the evenings. In Madrid, Cassandra had appeased her shopaholic nature by buying Harry tons of books, among many other things. The books’ topics ranged through many different subjects and Harry discovered for the first time in his life the joys of reading: he had never liked it before, and only reluctantly did it for homework, but now he had Cassandra, to whom he could ask anything that he didn’t understand, which usually evolved in interesting and eye-opening discussions on aspects of magic, or of the world in general. At first, Harry had been leery of reading some of the books which were clearly on Dark Magic, but when Cassandra noticed his reluctance, she gave him a stern talking to, especially after she found out that Harry didn’t actually know _what_ Dark magic was. She immediately called him a prejudiced idiot, and set about explaining that Dark magic differed from Light magic because it was a completely different type of magic, though they both had much of the same rules and casting methods. To put it simply, if magic was a muscle, Light magic would be a biceps, whereas Dark Magic would be a quadriceps, and the more you cast one type of magic, the better you got at it and the easier it became to cast. The same could be said for all another types of magic. Harry had never heard of this distinction before, and Cassy patiently explained that especially in the UK, France and United States –the ‘fanatically Light oriented’ countries in Cassandra’s opinion- most non-Light magics were thrown together and practically blanket banned, which was a very prejudiced and political decision, especially because all the best Healing spells were actually Dark magic. The three Unforgivables were also Dark Magic, and Cassandra argued that in many countries the Killing Curse was used to painlessly kill terminally ill patients and animals in slaughterhouses, whereas the Imperius Curse was used in hospitals on patients with mental problems or severe depression by certified Healers.

There were many other types of magic in the world, but the third most common type after Light and Dark was Black Magic, and it could further be divided in many separate branches, the biggest of which were: Mind Magics, most Blood Magics, and Soul Magic (like Horcruxes for example). Black Magic was also very peculiar because the only two Black Creatures in the world were Dementors and Lethifolds, whereas there were dozens of creatures which could use Light or Dark magic. Black Magic could be very versatile and useful, though it was a somewhat archaic type of magic in many countries. Blood Wards, like those on Privet Drive, and Occlumency, the art of sealing your mind from external influences, were the only two Black Magics that were legal in the UK.

When Cassandra found out that Harry had no idea of what Occlumency was, she immediately started teaching him, while told him that most traditional families in the Wizarding world taught their children Occlumency at a very early age, even in countries as bigoted as the UK’s Magical World.

The rest of the week passed with Harry learning about new types of magic of which he had never even dreamed of, such as Parselmagic and Necromancy, both of which you could only use if you had a genetical predisposition for. Harry was very sad to note that he couldn’t become a Necromancer, but immediately perked up when Cassandra started telling him of all the hilarious and dangerous situations in which her Necromancer ex-lover had gotten into when he started experimenting with his powers and still didn’t know how to control them. After all, Harry wasn’t really keen to be followed by an amorous army of half decomposed zombies everywhere for a fortnight.

Harry also became very interested in unusual subjects like the Oriental Animagus transformation, magical Weapons and magical Metalsmithing. The Oriental Animagus transformation was different from its Western variation because there was a moderate possibility of becoming a magical animal, whereas the Western traditional transformation only worked for non-magical animals. Like its counterpart, it was a very difficult and time-consuming process, though very different, and the actual probability of becoming a magical animal wasn’t that high: Cassandra and Joshua had both tried decades before, and they had become a lynx and a lemur respectively, though they were both very happy with their results. Still, Harry had wanted to become an Animagus ever since third year, so he decided to start studying and to dedicate himself to it during the next school year whenever he had a spare moment of time.

Magical Metalsmithing was quite easy in comparison to the Animagus transformation: when Joshua joined them about a week after they had gotten to Croatia, he brought along some blacksmithing tools from Spain as a lark, which he had bought in a Goblin shop specialized in Blacksmithing. Apparently, Cassandra liked experimenting with new things, and always had a new hobby to pass the time with. So, Harry and Cassandra had loads of fun with their new crafting project, experimenting together and creating simple pieces of enchanted jewelry and amulets. Their final ‘masterpieces’ were a gold earring in the shape of a basilisk fang with engraved runes for protection and good fortune which could act as a minor shield charm created by Harry, and a square pendant with a Thestral carved on it by Cassandra.

Sweaty and happy, after having finally finished their week-long project, the two of them left the hastily constructed ‘workshop’ and went inside for a drink. Joshua was in the kitchen, and they both showed him their creations proudly. While Joshua was carefully piercing Harry’s right ear for his new earring, Cassandra sent Fluffy to get her a gold chain. When the little house-elf got back, she put the necklace and pendant around Harry’s neck. At his confused face, Cassy smiled gently and said:

“It’s a present, sweetheart. I charmed the pendant into an emergency Portkey. Thestrals are my lucky animal, and I really hope it’ll bring you luck too, especially seeing as you want to go back to Hogwarts,” Joshua snorted in derision and disapproval at the mention of Harry’s school, but Cassandra only continued stroking his cheek, her eyes concerned and sad, “you just have to set a password, dear. I think in Parseltongue would be best. When you’ve done that, you just have to say the word and you’ll be immediately transported to Greyback Camp. You’ve got to be careful though, because I’m not completely sure if it would work from behind wards as strong as Hogwarts castle’s.”

“Wh-what? What did you say?” Harry spluttered, his eyes wide and panicked.

“Erm… I said that if you activate the portkey inside Hogwarts it probably won’t work becau-”

“No! Not that! D-did you say _Greyback_ Camp?”

“Yes, the village is where Fenrir lives. We’re there most of the year anyways, and even if we’re not, he knows how to get in contact with us in case of an emergency, so you don’t have to worry about being a bother or something equally ridiculous.”

“B-but Fenrir? As in _Fenrir Greyback_? The werewolf? _That_ Greyback?” Harry stuttered in a small voice, his face ashen and his breathing ragged.

Joshua and Cassandra exchanged a worried glance, and Joshua gently told Harry:

“Yes Harry, Fenrir’s surname is Greyback and he’s the Alpha of the Greyback Pack, which consists of the majority of English werewolves. He’s practically family to us.”

“B-but why? I-I mean, Greyback’s cruel, and vicious, a-and an assassin! He kills little children for fun! He’s a horrible murderer!”

“Don’t you dare!”, startled by her yell, Harry finally noticed Cassandra’s reaction to his words. She was pale, staring at him with hard cold eyes, her canines seemed to have grown even longer and were jutting out of her lower lip and her fists were clenched. A thrill of fear ran down Harry’s spine, and he realized that in that moment Cassandra scared him more than anyone he had ever met, even worse than Dementors or Voldemort. His instincts were screaming at him to run, that this woman –no, this _creature_ \- was a natural predator and meant to kill him, and he was only a scared little prey with absolutely no chance of survival.

“Cassandra! Control yourself!” Joshua snapped angrily, stepping in between the two of them.

Joshua’s sudden intervention startled Cassandra and broke the tension in the room. She quickly regained control of her body, closing her eyes and breathing deeply to rein in her anger. When he was sure that his adoptive mother wasn’t going to go on a rampage, Joshua turned back to Harry:

“What the hell kid! You know perfectly well that the Light Side’s propaganda and slander campaigns are exactly that: slander campaigns! Fenrir would never kill or hurt a child without good reason, and you know perfectly well that he can mostly control himself during the full moon! Did he look like someone who habitually goes on murdering rampages to you? You lived with him for what, a week? And has he ever tried to hurt you? Even though he doesn’t like you all that much? Yeah, he isn’t really the sweetest and most agreeable guy around, but to actually hurt an abused kid and a Potential Mother has brought back home? What the hell were you thinking? You weren’t thinking, that’s what!”

Feeling a lot calmer, Cassandra opened her eyes, and immediately noticed a distraught Harry, pale and shaking and with tears in his eyes. Sighing softly, she let her mothering Bloodsinger instincts take over, and immediately enveloped the teen in a hug. Harry melted in her embrace and couldn’t stop the sobs from escaping, the adrenaline leaving him shaking and wrecked, and a litany of ‘sorry, sorry’ escaping through the sobs. Joshua sighed morosely, regretting his outburst already, and snuggled between them, squishing himself in the hug, as Cassandra gently stroked Harry’s hair. When Harry had finished crying, she murmured:

“I’m so sorry, dear. I never should have gotten so angry with you for such a stupid reason. You’ve been spoon-fed Light propaganda all your life, and I really should have remembered that Fenrir is not well seen in British society. I don’t follow the national news presses closely, as you well know, and I completely forgot. And anyway I hadn’t realized that you hadn’t connected Fenrir with the name Greyback. I can’t believe we never said his name once in all this time! I am so sorry for getting angry with you, little love. It’s just that I sometimes still see Fenrir as the scrawny suicidal fifteen year old he was when we first met, and when somebody talks badly about him, all my mothering instincts go haywire and my bloodlust comes out to play.”

Harry nodded feebly, and after a few moments asked: “Suicidal? Wh-what do you mean? Fenrir looks so strong and-and… _durable!_ ”

Joshua and Cassandra both chuckled, and Cassy explained: “Fenrir’s father died when he was really young, and he was brought up by his mother. She was only a witch, and rearing a young Natural-born werewolf was really harsh on her. They never had much money, but they got by, and Fenrir was even able to attend a Muggle school. They lived in the woods, in his ancestors’ home, in the house in which we live in now in Greyback village, you know?”

The three of them had in the meantime moved to sit on the sofa, all cuddled together, and Harry nodded to Cassy to continue, fascinated by the true story of one of the people who was considered in Britain to be almost as cruel and vicious as Voldemort himself.

“Well, unfortunately his mother died of Dragon Pox when he was fourteen, and Fenrir decided to leave the UK. He didn’t have anything left for him there, and he was grieving. I met him almost a year later in Northern France. He wasn’t in a very good condition: half starved and badly beaten and so intoxicated that he could barely stand. So, I bit him, and-”

“What? You bit him?”

“Yes, of course. Don’t you know that Bloodsinger venom has healing properties on Werewolves?”

“Oh, yeah… I forgot,” Harry admitted sheepishly.

“Yes, well it does. And it actually gave him an even longer lifespan than the average Natural-born I think… interesting side effect isn’t it? Anyway, we travelled the world for some five years, when I found Joshua and turned him. Afterwards, Fenrir stayed with us for about another year, and then he went back to the UK. There he restored his old childhood home and started the Greyback Pack. It didn’t take him long to become the most powerful and respected Alpha in the country.”

“Wait… you met him even before Joshua? How old _is_ he? He looks like he’s in his early thirties at the very most!”

“Oh he’s 60. And well, Natural-borns live about three centuries normally… I mean, the average lifespan for a mediocre wizard is of two centuries, so it’s not really that much of a stretch. Though usually normal Werewolves rarely get to a century and a half, because the transformation really takes a toll on their bodies.”

Harry gaped: wizards normally lived two centuries? Why hadn’t anyone ever told him things like that! He cursed Hogwarts and its faulty curriculum, and morosely thought that Joshua might be really influencing him and transferring some of his Hogwarts-hate to him. Shaking his head in confusion, Harry focused back on the matter at hand:

“But why do people say that he killed little children? Ron told me that when he was little his mother told him and his brothers horror stories about Greyback every time that one of them misbehaved. And he is the one who bit Remus! He was just a child!”

Joshua and Cassandra shared a dark look, and Joshua answered Harry’s question:

“This Remus guy, he was probably just collateral damage,” Harry spluttered indignantly, but Joshua held up a hand to stop his protests, “he was. Every time that someone tries to reintroduce discriminating legislation against Werewolves, Fenrir went beneath their house during the full moon, and did his best to turn as many people as possible. Remus was probably the kid of some Wizengamot member who was pushing for more prosecution against Werewolves. When was he turned? Do you know the year?”

“Uhm… about 30 years ago? Wait, no, maybe a couple years less… I’m not really sure.”

“Yeah, that’d be about the right time. Some Light pureblood idiots were pushing for very heavy measures to be taken in those years. If those laws had passed, it would have been practically legal to kill Werewolves on sight. And I’m not talking about the full moon.”

Harry was horrified: the Light side actually promoted this kind of ideas? No wonder the Werewolves sided with Voldemort! Shaking his head to clear it, Harry muttered:

“But didn’t those attacks actually prove that Werewolves were dangerous? Wasn’t there a better way?”

Joshua snorted bitterly, “No, there wasn’t. The Wizengamot is the only body which can change laws in the UK, and its seats aren’t elective. Why do you think wizarding Britain is so far back in comparison to other countries? Getting a majority is very difficult, and it denotes huge political clout. I’m pretty certain that Dumbledore was the first one in centuries who consistently had the majority of votes. And only for a couple of years after his defeat of Grindelwald. Not to mention, that all his reforms have been strictly Light oriented, and didn’t do actually much, if anything at all, for the advancement of wizarding Britain. They just outlawed a bunch of different magics.”

“So, Greyback bit Wizengamot members or their family to make sure that no harsher laws against Werewolves were passed? That’s actually pretty clever… ruthless, but clever.”

“Of course it is!”, Cassandra chuckled, “It was my idea!”

Harry gaped, “Wh-what?”

“Fenrir was becoming a nervous wreck, obviously. In his manly broody sort of way. He had a whole pack to keep safe, and some idiot makes it legal to kill his family on sight? Anybody would go crazy! So, I came up with this wonderful plan, and the next full moon we went underneath the house of the leader of this farce, Fenrir bit him and half his family while I protected him from any threats, and then I apparated him to the next house, and so on. I think we were able to cover some five houses that first night. Very satisfying. You see, idiots like those are one of the main reasons this Voldemort chap everyone despises became what he is. I mean, from what Joshua found out, the kid lived in an orphanage, and had no idea who his parents were. Can you imagine being a Muggleborn at Hogwarts in the Fourties? It must have been a nightmare! He was a genius though, so he soon became very well respected. And yet, when the kid tries to make some changes, there’s absolutely nothing he can do! Can you really blame him for starting a revolution? True, he’s completely off his rocker now, probably because of excessive use of Soul Magic and badly made Blood Rituals, but his initial ideas were quite good actually. The man is stubborn, that’s for sure. If it had been me, I’d have just let the idiots in charge dig their own graves and moved to Australia or somewhere equally distant, peaceful and open to Dark Magic.”

Shocked, Harry realized that he had never even considered _why_ Voldemort had started his terror campaign, and that he actually didn’t know much at all about his so-called ‘greatest enemy’. He had always thought that the madman’s objective was to kill off all Muggles and Muggleborns, and rule the world. But was that actually the truth? All his knowledge of Voldemort was based on hearsay from the Light side, mostly from kids his age, so how much of it was truth and how much was bias? And how much did Voldemort’s insanity affect his views and subsequently his actions?

While going to bed half an hour later, Harry was still contemplating this. That night he spent many hours awake in bed thinking, as his view of the world had been completely turned on its head yet again.

* * *

The next week passed just like the two before, with the highlight being that Hedwig and Pig arrived with letters from Harry’s friends. Ron and Hermione dropped vague hints on something happening, that they were somewhere together and they would come get him ‘soon’. The fact that they couldn’t tell him anything because ‘Dumbledore said so’ just grated on Harry’s nerves even more. Sirius was a bit more supportive, even though he didn’t actually tell him anything useful either. When Harry passed his letters to Joshua and Cassy, who had been looking at him curiously, he was almost pleased to note Joshua’s eyes narrowing in a glare and Cassandra’s mouth thinning in anger. Sharing a dark look, the two took an almost simultaneous deep breath and carefully blanked their faces again. Harry was actually darkly amused by this display, and he spent a quick thought to the fact that in three weeks his sense of humour had changed so much that he was now actually entertained by someone’s indignation. But maybe it was only because they were angry on his behalf, Harry consoled himself thinking. All his leftover humour vanished though with Cassandra’s seemingly casual remark:

“It’s strange, isn’t it, that you haven’t been in Private Drive for what, three weeks? And no one has yet noticed anything amiss. Weird, especially considering that the morons had a person monitoring the place 24/7. I wonder how much it takes them to notice Harry’s absence?”

And Joshua and Cassandra started laying bets on the date, and actually managed to convince Harry to place a bet too. In the end, it was Joshua who won the wager two days later, on the 31st of July.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: sexual situations, character bashing

The 31st of July was Harry’s fifteenth birthday. The day was rapidly forming into the best birthday Harry had ever had, but unfortunately it didn’t last long. The morning had started beautifully, just like every single one in the last three weeks. Harry had calmly woken up around 9 and taken a shower. He then downed his first nutritional potion of the day, and proceeded to lather his whole body with the special cream Joshua had made for him: it was intended to help remove or minimize scars and make his skin healthier. The first time he had put it on he had felt like a girl or vain git like Malfoy, but he had kept doing it, if only for the fact that Joshua had actually taken time to brew for him, and now he was really glad he had: all his scars had practically disappeared! Even the one on his forehead, you had to really squint to see it. He also had no more pimples or any kind of spots, and his skin tone was really uniform. Harry wondered if this cream was what girly-girls like Parvati and Lavender used.

Naked in front of the mirror, Harry looked himself over: he had never liked his body much, but now the only thing he could think was ‘Merlin, I’m hot’. He had gained quite a few centimetres of height, and was now finally average. True, he would never be tall, but at least he didn’t look like a gnome now. Anyway, he was sure that in the next month he would shoot up some more. Growth spurts were the best!

Also, he had finally gained some muscle thanks to the regular healthy meals (grease free, unlike most Hogwarts foods) and the nutritional potions. He was sporting a uniform tan on his whole body (thanks magic! Harry was really way too shy to go skinny-dipping, especially with Cassandra around) and the fang earring hanging from his right ear and golden necklace where discreet and yet very cool, if Harry said so himself. His now tamed hair added to the ensemble, and Harry couldn’t wait for his glasses to go. Wearing some light comfortable clothes, the teenager bounced downstairs, where Cassy and Joshua were waiting for him, with his presents already laid out on the table. He started opening them eagerly, after goggling at the amount and thanking them profusely. Joshua had given him books on Potions, European Wizarding etiquette and traditions, and obviously Herbology, ‘cause Joshua was a plant fanatic, and when Harry had told him that he used to take care of his Aunt’s garden the little kid had been over the moon and pestered him into telling every single little detail and given him loads of useful advice. Harry still didn’t like Herbology all that much, but reading the titles, he had to concede that they would make interesting reads: _Fifty Strangest Plants of the World_ for example had wonderful illustrations, and seemed quite entertaining. Who knew that there existed a plant which lured humans in with a wonderful tempting perfume and then proceeded to gobble them down?

Joshua had also gifted Harry with a wood carving kit, which had him beaming with happiness: Cassy and Harry hadn’t done that much Metalsmithing lately, what with the sweltering heat during the last week, for which Cooling Charms didn’t really do much, and Harry had been sad to think that he wouldn’t be able to bring his tools back at Hogwarts, but with this kit he could carve wood, which was much more practical! True, it wasn’t really the same, but at least he would have something to keep his hands occupied with, having discovered the wondrous stress relief properties of hobbies. Quidditch wasn’t always feasible after all.

Cassandra gifted Harry with books on a variety of subjects too, the best ones being one explaining the Oriental Animagus transformation clearly step by step, and the other one being _Fifty Most Renown Magical Weapons of the World_ , of the same series as the book on strange plants. Still, all the other presents paled in comparison to what was waiting outside for Harry: Cassandra had gifted him his own personal magical sailing boat! It was very little and seated only one person, but it was way faster than Cassandra’s much bigger boat, and Harry was able to pull some amazing stunts with it, practically flying over the water. He spent the whole morning playing with his new boat, and at lunch he couldn’t stop chatting about all the awesome things he could do with it. Though he did fall in the water quite a few time, but that was what magic was for. After lunch, Harry was about to go read one of his new books quietly on the hammock, when Hedwig and another owl landed on the table. Everyone sat back down, and Harry opened his letters and presents from the UK, after having petted Hedwig and congratulated her repeatedly on flying so far away from home so soon after her last journey.

Joshua and Cassandra quietly watched the teen reading his letters and opening the presents, both watching the play of emotions on his face carefully. His brow furrowed when he read the letters, the slight smile hovering on his face from seeing Hedwig again quickly disappearing. When he opened his presents, instead of the flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes which had characterized his whole morning, an even deeper frown found its way on his face, his eyes narrowing in bitter disappointment. Irritated already at these people who didn’t appreciate Harry, Joshua leaned closer, trying to see what kind of crass present Harry’s friends had delivered that had made all of the boy’s previous delight disappear completely in the space of minutes. In fact, the boy had his head bent over the parcels, his arm covering them from view, and he looked to be restraining tears. When Joshua finally managed to coax Harry away from the boxes a few minutes later and get a look, his already frayed temper completely exploded:

“Chocolate! Those two morons sent you _chocolate_! In the middle of bloody July! It’s already completely melted! Didn’t even put preservation charms on it! And what kind of best friend gives you fucking chocolate for your fifteenth birthday?! That’s so bloody impersonal and unfeeling! Callous! And it’s not even high quality! Honeydukes! These things cost a dime a dozen! I could have bought you the whole fucking store and it wouldn’t have even put a dent in my funds! And the other one gifts you a notebook! What the fuck is this?!”

Panting harshly the seething seven-year-old tried to control his temper, watching helplessly as Cassandra gently rocked Harry, who was crying bitter tears of disappointment on her shoulder. Joshua had known that things between Harry and his so-called best friends weren’t going well -he had read the letters two days ago after all- but this was ridiculous! They sent him a cheap impersonal gift, and had the guts to write ‘Happy Birthday, Harry. Can’t say much, but we’ll see you soon. Love, Hermione and Ron.’ And that was it? Not even taking the time to write a note each, and whoever heard of birthday cards? Colourful ink, little drawings and smiley faces? Nothing. And then the world expected little Harry to save them all from big, bad Voldemort, when not even his best friends could get him a decent present and birthday card? Please. If Joshua had his way, nobody would ever dare touch one hair on Harry’s head ever again. And that was a promise.

* * *

At dinner Harry was still bitter about his friends’ complete lack of interest. He couldn’t believe that he had been friends with them for four years, and the most they did was drop tantalizing hints in their letters once every few weeks and send him some bloody chocolate and a homework planner. They didn’t even ask him if he was alright! And they _knew_ that his life at the Dursleys’ was horrible!

Unfortunately, Harry’s frayed temper completely exploded during dinner, when a troop of owls flew through the window, bringing Howlers and desperate notes which demanded that he immediately get back home, and how dare he leave Privet Drive and his poor Aunt and Uncle?

Harry managed to keep his temper enough to write one short note to Sirius telling him that he was perfectly safe and happy, and then proceeded to burn all the other letters and started pacing in the living room.

Half an hour later Cassandra quietly peeked inside, saw the state Harry was in, and proceeded to drag him to his room. There she made him change in his best skimpy clothing and, after a quick word with Joshua who was brewing and only nodded distractedly, lead him to her sailing boat. Less than an hour later they arrived to another island, which Harry recognized as the most popular island in Wizarding Croatia. They docked their boat, aided by the lamplight, and when Cassandra noticed Harry’s confused frown, she grinned impishly and said:

“Tonight I’ll introduce you to the pleasures of clubbing! Consider it another birthday present!”, and chuckling gleefully at Harry’s gobsmacked expression, she grabbed his hand and pulled into the throng of dancing and laughing people.

* * *

Harry was lost. Well, actually he sort of knew where he was and where his boat was, but he had lost sight of Cassandra hours ago, and had no idea of what club he was currently in. There were about a dozen, one after the other surrounding the main street and they were all packed. He had never seen so many wizardfolk all together in the same place, but Cassy had told him that this was the ‘in’ place to be for young witches and wizards from all around the world, sort of like muggle Ibiza. Thankfully, all the bartenders spoke English and Harry had been able to get a few drinks with the money Cassy had left him. He wasn’t exactly sober, though not really drunk, but still inebriated enough that when he almost crashed into Marcus Flint, he couldn’t do anything but stare. _Marcus Flint_? Clubbing? Here? For some reason his muddled brain just couldn’t process this fact, and he just stood there gaping stupidly. Luckily, Flint didn’t even notice, but unfortunately the guy standing next to him did, and for some strange reason thought that Harry had been staring at him. Emboldened by the blatant display of interest, he approached Harry with a smile.

“Hey, pretty. Dance with me?” and without waiting for an answer grabbed Harry and pulled him to the dance floor. Harry was completely shocked, not even having seen the man approach, and didn’t even have time to protest. The next thing he knew, he was encircled by strong arms, hot breath tickling his ear: “What’s your name beautiful? I’m Jean.”

“H-harry.” He stuttered, distracted by the man’s hard body grinding into his, and his nose nuzzling his ear and neck. Somebody chose that moment to bump into Harry, upsetting his balance and making him grab Jean’s biceps tightly. Jean turned his face slightly to look at Harry, whose inebriated brain had only the time to think ‘Oh. He’s handsome,’ before he was being kissed, the man’s hands splayed on his back and arse to keep him steady. Harry was startled: the feel of the man’s lips and then tongue ravaging his mouth and the evidence of his arousal pressing in his stomach were the hottest thing Harry had ever felt. Adrenaline began pumping in his veins, clearing his brain from the alcohol, and he finally started responding enthusiastically to the kiss, grinding against Jean and trying to get even closer to him, finally managing it by wrapping his legs around his waist. He was distracted for a moment when he felt a wall against his back, and opened his eyes to see what had happened: Jean had carried him away from the dance floor and to a partially secluded alcove, covered in shadows and which couldn’t be seen well from the outside.

All his thought processes were interrupted though when Jean slipped a hand in his pants, grabbing his cock. Harry let out a moan and arched his head back, baring his throat to Jean who proceeded to litter it with love bites, while still stoking the cock in his hand. When Harry got over the initial shock he fumbled for Jean’s trousers, and clumsily inserted a hand inside. Not really knowing what to do, Harry at first simply explored the man’s organ, marveling at the texture and girth. He quickly decided to grab the cock more firmly and try to do the same things he did while masturbating, despite the awkward angle. It was the right choice, because Jean’s languid strokes on his cock became rougher and faster, and they were soon both panting with exertion and occasionally kissing and nipping at each other’s jaw and neck. Jean suddenly twisted his hand just so, and Harry came almost without warning, with a drawn out erotic moan that had Jean following soon after.

The two of them stayed leaning against the wall a few minutes more, before casting a couple Cleaning Charms and rearranging their clothes. Jean leaned in for one last languid kiss and asked Harry his owl address, when Cassandra suddenly reappeared, a satisfied smile on her face. Seeing Harry with another man, she raised an eyebrow and shot him an impish smile, making him blush tomato red. Laughing, she grabbed his hand, waved at Jean, and dragged him outside.

They sailed back to Cassandra’s island in companionable silence, both with goofy smiles on their faces and with their thoughts elsewhere. When they arrived back home, they were greeted by a pajama-clad Joshua who was getting a glass of water in the kitchen. The seven-year-old took one look at Cassy and stated nonchalantly:

“You got laid,” and after a quick look at Harry he added, “both of you.”

Muttering under his breath about hormones and sexual diseases, the child left the other two standing embarrassedly in the kitchen, red as tomatoes. A quick glance at each other and they both started laughing at the absurdness of the situation.

Later that night laying in bed, still smiling goofily, Harry decided that even considering the miserable presents and letters from England, it was still the best birthday he had ever had… he couldn’t wait for next year’s.


	6. Chapter 6

Four days later, on Friday, Harry and Cassandra went clubbing again. Harry hadn’t found Jean again, but he had danced (and kissed!) with another handsome guy for a few hours, so he considered the night a success. On Sunday, Harry, Cassy and Joshua packed their things and took a Portkey back to Greyback Camp. They used Harry’s Thestral pendant to make sure it worked and, after a minor adjustment, Cassandra was happy to consider it perfectly functional. The next day Harry spent it playing football with the young werewolves of the pack, and even managed to convince Joshua to participate a few times too. When they were heading back to the house, Harry stopped a moment on the front steps. He craned his neck and looked the quaint little cottage over with a thoughtful expression. Suddenly he grinned, turned to Joshua who was watching him curiously and stated: “Home.”

Beaming, Joshua grabbed his arm and dragged him inside, wrinkling his nose in distaste at Harry’s sweaty clothes and shooing him to the shower. Neither of them knew that that simple word uttered by Harry was the final straw for the Blood Wards on Privet Drive. Already severely weakened by the abuse Harry had suffered in that house and by the purification ritual Cassy had used to rid Harry from the Horcrux, the last threads which had connected Harry with Little Whinging were severed when he formally acknowledged another house as his home.

At that same moment, deep in the Scottish mountains, many delicate silver instruments in the Hogwarts Headmaster’s office screeched in distress, before going completely silent. Eyes bugging out of his head, Albus Dumbledore shakily stood up and approached the desk on which the instruments were laid. He stretched a quivering hand towards them, as though he couldn’t believe his eyes and ears. Only after a couple of minutes of shocked horror, the most respected man in Wizarding Britain recovered from his surprise enough to upturn the desk in an uncharacteristic display of temper. Breathing deeply to calm himself, he decided to send another disappointed letter to the wayward Potter child, and to step up the search for him, which had yet to produce any results even after a whole week.

* * *

The next few days passed quickly, and Harry felt happy and carefree. He hanged out with the kids his age, and whenever he wanted a moment alone he smithed small pieces of jewelry, studied subjects which weren’t included in the Hogwarts curriculum or revised the classes in which he wasn’t very good. Joshua helped him loads with Herbology and Potions, giving him tips and explaining things much more clearly than Snape did. Harry discovered that Cassandra was also a certified Healer aside from being a Ritual Master, but she had taken the course only out of boredom more than 20 years before, so she was out of practice. Still, she taught him some basic healing spells for little scrapes and bruises, and she also knew many random bits of knowledge that were more or less useful, so Harry never got bored when studying with her.

Fenrir instead wasn’t home much, having many duties to keep up between the Pack and being a Death Eater, and the few times that he came back home for dinner he was constantly in a bad mood and harped about Voldemort being obsessed about ‘some kind of Divination shit’, and that being a Death Eater was becoming more hazardous and less rewarding every day. Harry still felt kind of awkward around the werewolf, and tried to avoid him.

* * *

Exactly a week after their return to the UK, Harry, his Firebolt slung over his shoulder, was heading to the Quidditch pitch with the other teens. One of them, Derek, had developed a huge crush on Harry, and was always flirting with him and saying lewd comments. Harry didn’t really mind all that much anymore, because at least he had finally stopped blushing and stuttering at every single one. After a particularly crude joke, one of the other boys pushed Derek playfully, causing him to stagger sideways, crash into a man who was passing by in that exact moment, and fall to the ground in a heap. Groaning in distress, Derek pulled himself to his feet, and turned around to apologize. Harry though had been close, and had already extended a hand to the fallen man, who grabbed it after a moment. Their eyes met when the man was halfway standing, and Harry almost let go and made him fall again: it was Remus! What was he doing here?

Sensing the boy’s flinch and paling face, Remus curiously looked at his helper more closely. It took him a moment, but he finally connected the dots thanks to Harry’s characteristic glasses. His eyes widened in recognition and shock: Harry looked completely different! His skin and body radiated health and he didn’t look like the spitting image of James Potter anymore, but was actually the perfect mesh of both his mother and father’s features.

Getting over the worse of his shock, he realized that Harry was panicking, and was desperately trying to get his hand out of Remus’ steely grip. Realization hit him like a train, making the first hint of panic leek into Remus’ countenance too: what was Harry doing in Greyback Camp? Was he insane? He would be killed on sight or delivered to Voldemort the second someone recognized him! Coming to a split second decision, Remus decided to completely abandon his diplomatic mission with the Werewolves, and dedicate himself completely to Harry’s safety instead. He started dragging Harry away with him, fully intending to get to the edge of the wards and apparating him immediately to Grimmauld Place.

A distressed whimper left Harry’s throat when Remus started dragging him away, catching the attention of all the other boys, who were standing there confused at what was happening. Seeing Harry’s anguish and desperate struggles, Derek immediately ran to him, managing to tackle Remus to the ground. A scuffle ensued and punches started flying, Remus trying to pull Harry away, and Derek and all the others trying to pry them apart without hurting Harry, his Firebolt getting in the way, and Harry’s panicked struggles not making things easier either.

A menacing growl suddenly reverberated across the field, and everyone stilled in fear. A majestic dark brown -almost black- wolf, the same colour as Fenrir’s hair, came loping towards the brawl, his teeth bared menacingly, followed by another lighter coloured wolf. When closer, the wolves changed back, and Harry had never been happier to see Fenrir than in that exact moment. The Alpha took in the scene for a moment, noticing Harry’s trembling and the protective stances all the boys had. His eyes narrowing in anger at Lupin, he forcefully pried Harry from his grasp, silencing his protests with a look. A quick gesture had his Beta restraining the traitorous werewolf, and Fenrir picked Harry up bridal style, broom and all, and proceeded to carry him back home without even a backward glance. Thankfully, when he got there, he found Cassandra in the kitchen, who immediately put on a cup of tea and enveloped the boy in a hug. A quick shrug to communicate his lack of knowledge, and he was back outside, heading back to his Beta and the teens, wondering what idiocy Lupin had tried to commit this time.

* * *

Cassandra meanwhile was dealing with a sobbing Harry: only after half an hour of soothing and assurances that Harry wasn’t going to be abandoned and that he would never have to go back living with his muggle family against his wishes, she finally managed to get the story out of him. The sudden appearance of an enemy (because anyone who tried to steal little Harry away from her was considered a hostile party) right in the middle of Greyback Camp, a place she had thought completely safe and protected from the outside world, shook Cassandra even more than it did Harry. After all, Harry was used to being put in danger in places he considered his home, like Hogwarts and Privet Drive, whereas Cassandra considered her house an impenetrable fortress out of harm’s way.

After having calmed down a bit, Harry immediately started to feel self-conscious: he hadn’t cried since the age of eight, except for extreme injuries when a few tears of pain leaked out, and yet this summer he had broken down so many times that he had actually lost count! His attempts to apologize to Cassandra where immediately rebuked:

“I don’t consider you a crybaby, Harry. Crying is perfectly normal, and you have unfortunately had many reasons to do so in the last few months. Also, the pent up stress from the Triwizard Tournament and Voldemort’s resurrection are big factors in the fact that you are feeling emotionally unstable, but I personally think that the biggest reasons of your uncharacteristic bouts of crying are probably the sudden release of the two Compulsions. It is likely your emotions are now probably much more raw and intense. Add that to the fact that you finally feel safe and have someone who cares and looks after you, and you get a recipe for a disaster. Isn’t that true, sweetheart? You knew that I was here and could protect you, and so you let yourself go and didn’t bottle all the hurt up. Which, by the way, isn’t a healthy method of dealing with problems at all.”

Slowly thinking it over, Harry realized that she was probably right, and felt immediately better. A few minutes later Cassy told him that she had to go to an appointment with his solicitor and asked him if he wanted to join her, but Harry had had enough drama for the day and refused, preferring to relax in the sitting room, reading the chapter on Gryffindor’s sword in his new book on magical weapons.

Joshua found him still reading hours later, and moved to sit beside him on the sofa. He had just settled and was about to tell Harry that it was getting late and he should probably start cooking supper, since today was his turn, when he noticed Harry’s wrist: it was completely purple!

Gasping, he gently grabbed Harry’s hand, and bombarded him with questions. Harry told him about Remus’ discovery and attempted kidnapping, and finished the tale saying that he hadn’t even noticed the bruise.

“You what! Harry you have gotten to take better care of yourself! Here, I’ll go get a cream for bruises, there should still be some in the bathroom. Otherwise, it’ll only take me minutes to brew some up anyway.”

“But it’s only a bruise…” Harry protested weakly, but his only answer was a disapproving glare. When Joshua got back, he started fussing on Harry’s wrist, and the teen watched him silently for a while, before asking him something that had been bothering him for a while:

“Joshua?”

The child hummed to show he was listening, completely concentrated on spreading the cream evenly on Harry’s bruise.

“Why were you at the Triwizard Tournament?”

Seeing Joshua’s perplexed expression, Harry hastily explained: “I mean, I remember seeing you in the stands before the start of the Maze. I’m sure it was you because I remember your eyes, and I almost didn’t hear the whistle because I was so engrossed by you.”

“Oh, so you were really looking at me! At the time we were worried you had recognized Fenrir somehow. Anyway, I was there because it was one of the greatest events in Europe in decades! The Triwizard Tournament reinstated after hundreds of years and with four participants! It was a unique event! And then the news of Voldemort’s second rise made it even more noteworthy!”, the little child answered excitedly, “I’d have regretted it for years if I hadn’t gone! I dragged Fenrir along because Cassandra was following her latest flight of fancy somewhere in South Africa, and the idiots who organized the Tournament only let kids in with _adult supervision_ ,” he spat the words like a curse, and Harry had to hold back his giggles, “anyway, it was a good thing I did, because I felt the Pull from a Potential, but there were too many people present and I couldn’t find you. So, the next day I called Mother back and we started methodically searching all of Wizarding Britain. If that didn’t work then we would have gone through all the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, a hugely time consuming endeavor. Thankfully, we found you pretty quickly: Mother was doing a casual search through the Muggle world in case you were a Muggleborn, when she noticed a huge concentration of Black Magic in Little Whinging caused by the Blood Wards.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully, before realizing: “Wait, Fenrir was in the audience at the Third Task? But isn’t he a Death Eater? Did he get summoned? I don’t remember him being in the graveyard, but then Voldemort didn’t call everyone by name.”

“Merlin, no! Fenrir isn’t a marked Death Eater! As if Mother would let him get branded! She’d go on a rampage and probably disown him or something! No, Fenrir has only an alliance with the bloke, and none of his Pack are marked.”

“You can have an alliance with Voldemort? I didn’t know that…”

“Yeah, Voldemort’s allies are a big part of his forces, though he prefers using his Death Eaters. Just think of the Dementors: they aren’t Marked –obviously- and he won’t use them until the time is right. The Ministry is really made up of a bunch of morons: the Dementors were Voldemort’s most loyal allies, and they make them guard the only magical prison in the UK? The sheer incompetence of bureaucrats is astounding!”

Laughing bitterly, Harry started preparing dinner while continuing to chat with Joshua, and tried to forget his horrible encounter with Remus.


	7. Chapter 7

The next day Harry was shocked and touched by the level of concern his werewolf friends displayed in his regards. Yes, Harry had been fussed over by Molly Weasley before, but this was completely different: his friends didn’t try to crowd him, or strangle him with an awkward Hermione-hug, but displayed their worry with little gestures. When they were playing football, they were even more considerate than usual –though they always were, because Harry was the only human on the team, and couldn’t compete with a werewolf’s strength and reflexes: he couldn’t wait till to be turned!- and Fenrir actually kept a close eye on the teens throughout the day from afar. Harry noticed him lurking though, and jogged over to where he was standing. A very awkward pause ensued, and the two just spent a minute sort of staring at each other. Finally, Harry cleared his throat and said:

“Erm… Thank you. For, you know, saving me yesterday. I mean, Remus is one of your pack, and I’m…”

Fenrir snorted bitterly, “He’s not Pack. That coward was here only to _negotiate our alliance with Dumbledore,_ ” he mocked, “he’s a loose cannon, that one. Always making trouble and trying to sway Werewolves towards the ‘greater good’. Won’t even listen to me when I tell him that Dumbledore actually passed some legislation _against_ Werewolves, and won’t ever do anything good for our species.”

“Really? I didn’t know that… what kind of laws are they?”

“Registration. Every Werewolf had to give their name to the Ministry, or they would be heavily fined and put in Azkaban for up to a year. Thankfully, my association with the Dark Lord proved useful for once, and I had Lucius Malfoy retract them. It pays off to have influential friends.”

“You’re friends with Malfoy?” Harry asked, flabbergasted.

“More like mutually beneficial acquaintances. He helps me with his political clout, and I help him by scaring anyone who bothers him half to death.”

Harry nodded absently, feeling a bit queasy at this new information, and another awkward silence ensued. Finally, Harry managed to say what he had come over to talk about in the first place:

“Uhm… Fenrir? What did you do to Remus?”

Fenrir fixed him with a glare, and spat:

“What? Do you really think I killed him?”

Seeing Harry floundering for an answer, he continued, “I’m not a savage nor a madman, you know. I don’t usually go around killing whoever bothers me! I simply kicked him out and Obliviated your presence and the coordinates of the Camp from his mind. Anyway, even if he manages to find this place again, the wards would rip him to pieces if he tried entering without permission,” and he stalked away, leaving Harry there fuming at him. It wasn’t _his_ fault that Greyback had a horrible reputation! He wasn’t the one who attacked and turned entire families! He wasn’t the one with anger management problems and so much witty sarcasm that he put Snape to shame! He was only worried about Remus! Those Compulsions had left lasting damage on him, dammit, and now this ‘people saving thing’ he had just refused to go away completely! Seething, he stalked back home with only an absent wave at the other teens who were still playing football, and went looking for Cassandra, thinking about getting her to teach him some advanced magic to relieve some stress.

* * *

The next weeks passed peacefully and happily, with the difference that now Harry wasn’t shy about answering Fenrir’s sarcastic barbs with equally witty responses anymore, and they drove each other up the wall very other day. Cassy and Joshua simply sat back and enjoyed the show with wicked smiles on their faces, making bets and recording the most humorous or cutting phrases for posterity. Aside from that, Harry, Cassy and Joshua visited Godric’s Hollow, and Harry saw his parents' grave for the first time. When he saw the inscription on the tomb, he asked who had it commissioned, and when he was told that it had been in fact Dumbledore who had written such a nonsensical thing and sullied their grave, Harry commissioned a bigger sepulcher for his parents, which he hoped would become his resting place too when the time came. Afterwards, they went to see Harry’s house: Cassandra erected some sturdy wards to keep busybodies and anyone who didn’t have permission out, and they cleared away all the useless junk that tourists had left, especially all the well-wishers’ graffiti saying things along the lines of: ‘Thank you Harry for saving us all. Can’t wait for you to defeat the next Dark Lord or horrible monster for us!’

Cassy even managed to make the property Unplottable and connected Harry to the wards with a nifty piece of Blood Magic. And ta-dah! Harry had his own private retreat, which could be accessed only by the three of them, where he could run to if things ever got too much.

* * *

Finally, the long awaited 29th of August arrived: Harry had been taking nutritional potions and Joshua’s special cream against scarring for more than two months, and Healer Cassandra and Joshua had decided a few weeks before that on that day Harry was going to be healthy enough to be turned. After all, if he had been turned immediately after Cassy found him, fighting the damage the Dursleys’ abuse had inflicted on his body would have been much harder, because Bloodsingers were much more resilient, making their bodies change much more slowly.

So, the morning of the 29th of August, everyone gathered in the kitchen after breakfast to see Harry’s turning.

“Were do you want the bite?”

“Erm… does it make a difference?”

Everyone chuckled, and Cassandra gently explained: “No, it doesn’t. It will heal over during the next day, and it won’t scar.”

“Oh, well. Wherever you want then.”

“Alright then, let’s do things traditionally: bite on the neck!”

And Harry watched nervously as Cassy elongated her fangs and tilted his head for better access. Harry gasped in pain, but she quickly finished injecting the venom and licked the wound clean.

“You didn’t tell me it hurt!”, Harry glared at her when she stood up straight again and everyone chuckled at Harry’s pouting expression.

Harry spent the morning finishing his Transfiguration homework, and after lunch went outside to hang out with Derek and the other teens. He watched them play football, feeling a bit unwell, and was surprised when halfway through the game he had to take his glasses off because he didn’t see well with them anymore. Derek obviously used this as another opportunity to flirt with Harry, and gushed about how ‘cute and pretty’ he looked without glasses, which resulted in Harry tackling him to the ground and tickling him mercilessly until he gave up and promised to never call him cute again. It left Harry panting, sprawled on the ground, but it was totally worth it.

When Harry got back home he was completely exhausted, even though he hadn’t done much the whole day, and he fell asleep on the sofa while waiting for dinner. When Cassandra came to tell him supper was ready, she didn’t even have the heart to wake him up. He looked so peaceful, so she took a photo of him instead and Fenrir offered to carry him upstairs while she finished preparing the table. Gently depositing Harry on the bed and covering him with a blanket, Fenrir just looked at the sleeping teenager for a few minutes, thinking deeply. Nodding to himself, having finally reached a decision for something that he had been pondering since even before Harry’s entrance in their lives, Fenrir slipped out of the room on silent feet, closing the door silently behind him so as not to wake the kid up.

* * *

The next morning Harry woke up late and feeling completely refreshed. He wondered if his turning was already complete, and rushed to the mirror to check. Smiling, he immediately noticed that he was finally a Bloodsinger! And he was amazed: his body looked even fitter and healthier than the day before, he had fangs that he could lengthen or shorten at will and his green eyes had a mesmerizing, almost unearthly quality to them. They were much darker than Joshua’s pale green or Cassy’s blue, but there was still something very similar about them: was it any wonder that Harry had thought at first that Joshua was Cassandra’s biological son? What with the eyes and hair, they passed as family quite easily. Still, other than the fact that Harry could now see perfectly and could move a little faster and had better reflexes, he felt the same as the day before, and didn’t look _that_ much different. After all, you could pass off the differences in his eyes with the fact that he wasn’t wearing glasses anymore, and his fangs only looked like pointy teeth if he kept them under control.

He sprinted downstairs, where Cassy and Joshua gushed over him, and even Fenrir managed a word of congratulations. Preening happily, Harry rushed through breakfast, making everyone chuckle at his enthusiasm. Cassandra and him then walked towards the edge of the wards, stopping a moment where some of the werewolf teens where already hanging out. After many hugs, back-pats and congratulations on his Turning, Cassy and Harry were finally outside the Camp. Harry immediately created a Portkey to Spain, supervised closely by Cassandra, and when they landed in the same alley they had landed in when they came to Madrid in July, she moved to hug Harry, saying how proud she was of him making his first international illegal Portkey, which made Harry blush bright red and scoff at her teasing. They passed at Joshua’s house to tell Binty the house-elf that they were in Spain till the next day, and then they headed straight to Calle Madrileña.

The first stop was the wand shop, which Cassy much preferred to Ollivander’s because they didn’t put the Trace on the wands and because they used a much wider range of materials and had different types of merchandise. In fact, the blond woman bought herself a staff for Warding Rituals to make Godric’s Hollow and their other various residences more secure, since her last one had apparently been involved in some kind of accident with a troll and a hag (Harry really didn’t want to know… some of Cassandra’s stories were too crazy for normal people). Harry was sorely tempted to buy himself an athame, till he remembered that they were forbidden in Hogwarts, along with most Ritual Magic. Huffing crossly, he finally went to try wands. This time, unlike when he was eleven, the search was very quick because he felt a definite connection with the third wand he tried: ten and a half inches, reasonably supple walnut and unicorn hair, it had an unusual versatility and adaptability, but the unicorn hair didn’t make it very good for casting big amounts of Dark or Black Magic. Cassandra also made him purchase one arm and one thigh holster, where he could keep his two wands and access them easily. Harry was undecided on which wand to use as primary and which as secondary, but figured he could decide definitely when he had spent some time practicing and comparing his holly and walnut wands.

Cassy and Harry then spent the rest of the day shopping for Harry’s Hogwarts supplies, and they found out that some things, like the robes, where much cheaper and higher quality in Spain than in England, whereas other things like the course books where much more expensive, so they decided to get those in Diagon Alley instead. Still, they had a wonderful time, and when they got home again, they were very happy for Binty’s presence, which meant they didn’t have to worry about cooking, washing dishes and making their beds.

The next day the Portkeyed back to Greyback Camp and in the afternoon Cassandra, Harry and Joshua went to Diagon Alley. While Cassy was buying Harry’s books, the two boys went to Gringotts. They went to the Potter vault, because Harry had discovered that his holly and phoenix feather wand now didn’t work for him anymore since he had bought a new wand. It hadn’t been working well since Harry the Horcrux had been removed, but since his turning he had difficulties even with a simple Levitating Charm. So, Joshua and Harry dug thorough the vault, till they finally managed to find four wands, that likely used to belong to James and Lily Potter, and James’ parents. Harry was very touched in seeing his family’s wands for the first time, because knowing they had held and used those pieces of wood for years somehow made him feel much closer to them. He tried them all, and was ecstatic to find out that his mother’s wand -willow and dragon heartstring, ten and a quarter inches, as Ollivander had once told him- was almost a perfect match for him, and he could easily use it when he had to cast Dark or Black Magic. He left his holly wand there, and they headed back to the surface.

When they got back to Greyback Camp, Harry still hadn’t stopped gushing about his mother’s wand, and even enthusiastically recounted everything to Fenrir when they found him cooking dinner. For once, the werewolf didn’t say any sarcastic or belittling comments, listening to Harry’s tale attentively, sharing only a sad glance with Cassandra and Joshua. After all, what kind of kid knew so little about his own mother that finding her wand was such a momentous occasion? Hell, even Joshua knew more about his parents, and they had died when he was three with no money and no friends! Cassandra swore to herself that she would make all those so-called ‘old friends of the Potters’, who always tried to dictate sweet Harry’s life, pay dearly for their sins, and for the utter indifference with which they treated her little green eyed boy.

The next day was the 31st of August, and Harry spent the day saying goodbye to Derek and the other kids, who would be leaving for Durmstrang later in the week. During the afternoon Cassandra showed Harry how to make a little purification ritual, and they eliminated the Ministry Trace from Lily’s wand. After dinner, Cassy, Joshua, Fenrir and Harry all went to relax in the sitting room, and a slightly teary Cassandra told Harry:

“Sweetheart, we got two presents for you. But, you know that if that horrible school ever gets too much, you can always run away right? I’m sure the new Durmstrang Headmaster would be delighted to admit you there! Or if you preferred to be home schooled, I’m sure we could arrange something…”

“Mother,” Harry said softly but firmly, startling her because he had never called her that before, “we already talked about it. I want to go back to Hogwarts because it was the first place I ever considered my home, and because I don’t want to run from my problems. If I don’t face those people who have wronged me now, I never will.”

Nodding shakily, Cassandra hastily wiped her eyes and handed him two wrapped up presents, still looking reluctant. Harry unwrapped the first and found a photo album, with loads of snapshots of the summer, mostly starring Harry. The present made tears spring up in Harry’s eyes, reminding him of his other photo album, with the difference that when he saw these photos, he knew the whole story behind them, and he could say ‘I was there, I did that’. Very touched, Harry gave all three of them a hug, even Fenrir, and then unwrapped his other present. Inside there was only a blank notebook, with a light blue leather cover with a carved Thestral on the front, just like his pendant. When Joshua saw Harry’s confused look, he explained:

“It’s a Protean Charmed notebook. Do you know what the Protean Charm is? No? Practically, it connects two solid things together, and having one, you can modify the other. In this case, if you write in one notebook, your letter will arrive to the other notebooks, and vice versa. It’s a pretty simple spells, but it does have some drawbacks. In this case, if you write, all three of us will receive all the letters on our connected notebooks, so for example if you want to tell something only to Mother and not Fenrir or me you can’t, and proofreading is out: when something’s written, it’s written, and it’s too late to take it back. Still, it’s a very useful thing to have around, especially if you’re dealing with long distances. The three of us had something similar years ago, but we lost them somewhere along the way.”

Smiling hugely, Harry thanked them profusely yet again, and that night went to sleep happy, though he was quite nervous too for the upcoming confrontations with all those he knew from what he privately thought of as his ‘past life’.

* * *

The next morning, absolute chaos reigned in the house. Joshua was a meticulous packer, while Cassandra lived by the motto: ‘ _If I forgot about it, it probably means I don’t need it_ ’, and simply bought again everything she had forgotten to pack. This morning though they were both freaking out over Harry’s trunk, making dozens of little lists, adding absolutely useless things that Harry would never need, and forgetting that they could simply send Harry anything he had forgotten via Hedwig. Completely bemused, Harry and Fenrir stayed out of their way, loitering in the kitchen and sharing amused glances while listening to them scrambling about and yelling at each other from opposite sides of the house.

“ _Mother!_ ”

_“What?”_

“Did you put some ritualistic markers and chalk in Harry’s trunk? He might need them!” a slightly hysterical Joshua yelled from one side of the house to the other.

“Yeah, yeah! Did you put his new books? And the new cauldron? His old pewter one was completely useless! And the thick dragonhide gloves! And the thin ones! Don’t forget those!”

“ _Yes, yes, mama!_ Already done!”

And on they went, sometimes alternating pieces of phrases in other languages in their panic. ‘Really,’ mused Harry, ‘the Weasley household is almost calm in comparison!’

Finally, there was nothing left to pack, and after saying goodbye to Fenrir, the three of them apparated to Platform 9 and ¾. Harry was shocked to notice that even though Cassy and Joshua had unpacked and repacked his trunk that morning, they still weren’t very late. Looking around, they immediately noticed a tall bald man and a pink haired girl in Auror robes closely scanning the crowd, and the three of them shared a secret grin, rightly thinking that they were looking for Harry Potter. Even doing absolutely nothing to hide, the gaze of the two passed over the three of them without even a thought, causing Joshua to snort and mutter something derogatory about English Aurors. And Harry was very inclined to agree: they didn’t even notice when Joshua scared a little girl witless with a huge fanged grin simply because she was staring at him curiously. This earned him a swat upside the head by Cassy:

“Joshua! You’re a forty plus year old world renown Potions Master! Control yourself! You can’t amuse yourself by scaring innocent little girls,” she reprimanded him, but her eyes where laughing, and Harry couldn’t contain his giggles at the ‘seven-year-old’s’ absolutely adorable pouting face.

Finally, it was time to go, and Harry gave one last teary hug to Cassy, who whispered in his ear:

“If there’s ever an emergency and you can’t use your Portkey, just call Binty. She’s a house-elf, so she can easily get inside Hogwarts, though it will probably take her about half an hour to apparate there from Spain. Anyway, whatever happens, know that we love you and we can’t wait to see you again.”

A kiss on the cheek and a hug with a misty eyed Joshua later, and Harry dragged his -charmed lightweight obviously- trunk on the train. Most compartments were already full, but he found one that had only a blond dreamy eyed girl inside and, not wanting to sit alone, asked her if it was free. She nodded her head absently, and stared at him while he put his trunk on the rack, feeling glad that Hedwig was going to fly to Hogwarts so he didn’t have to worry about her cage. The train started moving in that moment, and Harry leaned out the window and waved to Cassy and Joshua till they were out of sight.

Sighing sadly, already missing them, he sat back down, and noticed that the girl was still staring at him. Remembering his manners, he told her:

“I’m sorry, I didn’t tell you my name. I’m Harry.”

“I know,” the girl answered, “I’m Luna Lovegood. But you may call me Loony if you wish. Many people do.”

Harry arched an eyebrow, and said, “No, thank you. I don’t like Loony much. Luna though is a very nice name,” he mused, ignoring the blush staining the girl’s face, “what does it mean? Do you know?”

“Luna means _moon_ in Latin.”

Harry looked at her thoughtfully, and decided:

“Yes, I like it. It really suits you, especially considering your pale skin and white blond hair. You’d look really ethereal in the moonlight.”

She smiled at him, blushing even redder, and the two descended into a comfortable silence. Harry realized that he had really changed during the summer: he never would have acted flirty with a girl before!

Harry frowned angrily, noticing Ron and Hermione pass by, looking inside Harry and Luna’s compartment, not recognizing their supposed ‘best friend’ and moving. Luna thankfully chose that moment to brake the silence:

“May I see your fangs?”

Harry stared at her in shock, blinking rapidly, before suddenly smiling a huge fanged smile at her. His sudden forced smile shocked Luna into genuine laughter, a beautiful tinkling cheerful laughter, which made the air seem lighter and the day brighter and warmer. Staring at her in fascination, Harry decided that this petite girl must be some sort of creature or part creature, because there was absolutely no way that a normal human being could produce such a melodious sound, and affect the environment with it.

Well, at least now he wasn’t grumpy anymore. And maybe he should try giving Ron and Hermione the benefit of the doubt? He had changed a lot, and they were probably worried about his ‘disappearance’… whatever, he would decide what to do in regards to their friendship when they talked again, depending on how that conversation went.

Luna soon took out a copy of the Quibbler to read, and when Harry casually commented that he had read that issue and found it quite interesting, Luna smugly told him that her father was the editor. Hearing that, Harry immediately let her know that her father should be really proud, because The Quibbler was one of the very few newspapers that his Mother could stand to read. Delighted to have found a kindred soul, the two of them launched in a very engaging detailed discussion on various esoteric or extinct types of magic. They were interrupted only by the cart lady selling them lunch and by the Weasley twins: the two of them had passed in front of their compartment, barely glancing in, when Fred did a double take and came back. The twins stared at Harry for a moment, looked at each other, and promptly came inside the compartment, congratulating Harry on a wonderful prank pulled, that had the whole ‘Order’ (a vigilante anti-Voldemort group led by Dumbledore, Harry soon learned) scrambling around like headless chicken… or headless phoenixes, the twins joked with a laugh. Before leaving, they left Harry some of their new products: Extendable Ears, Canary Creams and Pucking Pastilles. Very wary, Harry gingerly placed them in his trunk, and told himself that he would test them on the first person who dared bother him.

When the train finally got to Hogsmeade, Luna and Harry got off together, and headed towards the carriages. Shocked, Harry noticed the Thestrals pulling them, which he had never seen before, and gingerly moved closer to pet them. Luna joined him and told him that one’s name, and he soon found out that Hogwarts had a whole herd of them, and Luna routinely helped feed them and knew them all. When they finished petting the Thestral, they were one of the last carriages left, and seeing Neville about to get in a carriage with a bunch of Slytherin second years, Harry waved him over.

Looking very cautious and confused, Neville got on board, and only after staring at him intently for a while ventured: “Harry? Is it you?”

Chuckling, Harry nodded, “Yeah, it is. Quite a change, isn’t it? The wonders of a summer free of starvation!”

Neville looked even more confused, but let the matter drop.

“Oh, and this is Luna Lovegood. Luna, Neville Longbottom.”

Luna smiled dreamily, and Harry continued, “So, did you have a nice summer? I can see you’ve got a nice tan! You’re looking good! Did you spend your summer gardening?”

Blushing, Neville nodded and told him:

“Yeah, Grandmother had a new greenhouse built in spring, ostensibly as an early present for my birthday, and I spent the summer growing some rare plants. Made quite a sum out of them too, by selling parts for potion ingredients.”

“Really? What plants did you have?”

Neville began telling Harry about his herbs, at first cautiously, but when he saw that Harry seemed quite interested and was obviously knowledgeable about most of the plants he was talking about, he gained momentum, and the two of them were soon engrossed in a fascinating conversation, with Luna sometimes adding her own witty thoughts. They were still talking when they reached the Great Hall, and waved Luna off at the Ravenclaw table. They only interrupted their discussion for the Sorting and the Headmaster’s speech (and didn’t even bother listening to that weird Ministry woman) and spent the whole meal talking Herbology and debating the pros and cons of this or that plant. They were joined by a bunch of interested seventh years, who admittedly found themselves floundering at times, because some of that information was way above Hogwarts’ curriculum. When the meal finished, Harry and Neville convinced Katie Bell, who was a Prefect, to give them the common room’s password and, using the Marauder’s Map, they were the first ones to arrive to their dormitory. Harry changed quickly and said goodnight to Neville, before dropping down on the bed, feeling completely exhausted. He added a Notice Me Not and a Silencing Charm to his bed, and was soon fast asleep, a little smile playing on his face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some bashing, sexual situations, and a small reference to minor character death (sort of death... almost death? permanent grave disability?)  
> One of the scenes is set during the summer, the rest during the first week of school.

Harry woke up before dawn the next day: his sleep cycle had been completely muddled when he was turned, and he now slept much less than a normal human being. He changed quietly in his school robes, and then went to the Common Room to read.

People finally started heading to breakfast quite a few hours later, and Hermione was one of the first ones who arrived to the Common Room. Thankfully, she still didn’t recognize Harry, and sat across the room with a book, probably waiting for Ron. Neville was one of the early risers too, so they soon left together, Neville looking from Harry to the oblivious Hermione with a slight frown, but not commenting.

The sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, and started chatting about their summer. They finished eating quickly, but they had to wait for McGonagall to give out the class schedules, so they stayed seated. After a while, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil sat across them. The two of them said hi to Neville, and stared in confusion at Harry. After a whispered conversation, Lavender finally asked:

“Harry? Is that you?”

Harry looked up and smiled at her:

“Yeah, it is. Almost no one recognized me. Can’t really say I miss the stares and finger pointing.”

The two girls giggled, and joined their conversation about the summer holidays. Harry had never really interacted much with the other people in his House except Ron and Hermione, so he was surprised by their wit and cutting remarks towards this or that person. All in all, they were much less giggly that he thought, and they actually reminded Harry of Cassandra a little. Thinking back now to all the disparaging remarks Hermione had said about them during the years, Harry wondered how many of them were truth and how many of them were caused by jealousy: after all, Hermione had always wanted to be ‘in’, and you couldn’t get much cooler than Lavender and Parvati. Maybe only Greengrass and Davies from Slytherin were more popular, but they were more like perfect ‘ice queens’, whereas the two Gryffindor girls were more the ‘hot and sexy’ type, if one wanted to go with the cliché.

Owl post finally arrived, and Harry was swarmed by owls just like every morning since his lawyer had finally lifted the block on his post Dumbledore had put in place when he was a baby. He shrunk all the fan letters to read later when he had a moment of time, and found himself with a package and a note. The care package was from Cassy and Joshua, and it was full of colourful biscuits of all shapes. Harry grinned, imagining the two of them in the kitchen, covered in flour and laughing while making biscuits, and Joshua giggling like an adorable 7 year old. Smiling, he distributed the biscuits to his neighbors, and everyone had fun finding the one they liked most. Harry got a blue wolf, Neville a green tree and the girls a red heart and a sparkling shooting star. While they were eating, Harry read the note, and found out it was from Madam Johnson, the mediwitch who had replaced Madam Pomfrey in Hogwarts’ infirmary. She wanted Harry to see her for a physical and grief counseling tomorrow, that was Sunday, but Harry was really leery of her. After all, Madam Pomfrey had had her license revoked and was under investigation because of solicitor Gunnard’s lawsuit and Cassy’s testimony as a Healer. This new mediwitch worked at Hogwarts now, so she might in Dumbledore’s pocket too. Grimacing, Harry decided to write Cassy and Joshua for advice, and put the matter out of his mind.

Professor McGonagall finally started handing out their schedules, and she soon arrived at Harry’s place. She looked at him with a scrutinizing disapproving glare, and Harry glared right back.

“Mr. Potter. You have finally deigned to come back. To you have any idea how many people were worried for you?”

“No, not really Professor. My dear Aunt and Uncle were probably over the moon, and no one else has the right to tell me what to do.”

“Mr. Potter! Your irresponsibility has caused-”

“Professor,” Harry interrupted coldly, “are you confusing that with _your_ irresponsibility which put many underage students in danger?”

McGonagall’s faced blanched, and her eyes grew large. Harry knew it was a low blow, but he still felt a thrill of satisfaction at having hurt his Head of House. That summer, after having seen the Pensive memories Harry had provided, his solicitor had filed complaints towards more than one Hogwarts professor, specifically McGonagall, Snape, Hagrid and Trelawney. They weren’t under DMLE investigation like Dumbledore and Pomfrey, but they were closely watched by the Board of Governors for having put students in danger (Hagrid), verbal abuse and favoritism (Snape), psychological persecution (Trelawney and her constant death omens) and complete indifference -bordering on negligence- towards her charges (McGonagall in her capacity of Head of House).

Harry would have felt a modicum of pity for the Deputy Headmistress, if not for the fact that when he had written her for a change of class schedule (he wanted to dump Divination, and pick up Arithmancy with the 5th years and Ancient Runes with the 3rd years), she had answered that it was impossible, and that he should have thought about it when he was in 3rd year. At that, Joshua had written back citing a dozens of laws, British and international, that gave students the right to an education in whatever subjects they desired. He also sent a copy of the letters to the Board of Governors, and noted that no one had actually explained _what_ the different subjects were and were useful for in 2nd year. One of the Board members, upon hearing this, had stormed into Hogwarts, furiously yelled at the Deputy Headmistress for an hour, and told her that if she didn’t get her act together by the end of the year, she would be relieved of her duties as both Deputy and Head of House. McGonagall had hurriedly relented, and Harry now was in two new classes.

Unfortunately, McGonagall’s exclamations had attracted a crowd, and Ron and Hermione finally recognized Harry. Not wanting a scene in the middle of the Great Hall, Harry hurriedly waved at Neville and the girls and walked out. The two of them caught up with him in the Entrance Hall, and they started furiously yelling accusation at him:

“Harry mate! What the hell? Where were you all this time?”

“Harry! This is completely irresponsible! How dare you run away from home! Do you have any idea how worried the Headmaster and everyone else was?”

And they continued in that way for a while, attracting a huge crowd, and not noticing Harry was just silently staring, waiting for them to finish.

When they finally ran out of steam, they stood panting in front of him, glaring with silent accusation at him.

“Have you finally finished?”, Hermione and Ron spluttered in indignation, but Harry didn’t give them the time to say anything before continuing, “where I spend the summer is none of your business, as I already told McGonagall. The only ones who have a say in what I do are my guardians, and did they complain about my absence? No? Didn’t think so…”

“Harry!” Hermione had finally gotten her breath back, “your cousin was Kissed because you weren’t there!”

Ringing silence met her words, and the whole crowd, Harry included, gaped at her, at loss for words.

“Wh-what?”

“Two Dementors where set loose in Surrey! They Kissed you cousin and another Muggle who was passing by! If you had been there, it would never have happened!”

“Wait a moment… are you telling me that a bunch of Dementors were set loose in _Privet Drive_? And th-they _Kissed_ Dudley?”

At Hermione’s nod, Harry couldn’t help it anymore: he snickered, a hand on his mouth trying to keep it inside, but it was in vain, because he was soon all-out laughing.

When he finally stopped, wiping the tears for his eyes, everyone was staring at him with faces that ranged from openly horrified to completely confused. The only ones who were looking at him with curious eyes were a little group of Slytherins, Zabini, Greengrass and Davies if he wasn’t mistaken. Looking at Hermione’s and Ron’s appalled expressions, Harry explained between sniggers:

“My _dear_ family never liked magic, and now Dudley’s soul has been sucked out by a Dementor? I can’t say I’m very sorry… anyway, if you’ve finally finished giving me the fault for something I didn’t even know about, I have things to do.”

And he hurried away before anyone could get their wits back.

Locking himself in an unused classroom, Harry collapsed on a chair, shaking from the adrenaline that had been pumping in his veins. Pressing his forehead to the tabletop, he breathed deeply, and tried to discern the emotions coursing through him. The only thing that greeted him was indifference, and he almost panicked when he realized that his cousin’s death didn’t even move him. After all, Cedric’s death had been like a punch to the gut, and now he felt absolutely nothing. He theorized that he was probably in shock and that’s why he didn’t feel any grief, but deep down he knew that he would never feel any for his cousin. Agitated, he got out the Protean notebook from his bag, and wrote to his family. Cassy answered after a few minutes, and thanks to her encouragement and Joshua’s witty remarks, a few hours later he finally felt better.

His stomach suddenly rumbled, and looking at the time he noticed that it was lunchtime. He headed to the kitchens where he was served heaps of food by over-eager house-elves, and then headed back to Gryffindor Tower. In front of the Fat Lady, he took a deep breath and steeled himself for yet another confrontation.

* * *

Hermione Jane Granger was very angry. She had been having a wonderful summer, first with her parents, and then with Ron and the rest at Grimmauld Place. The house was very creepy, but with some cleaning it was finally fit for inhabitation, and spying on the Order was fun, even though she was plagued by guilt when doing it. Still, she and all the others had been having a wonderful time, and the only downside was that Harry couldn’t be there with them. But, since he was protected and safe and owls could be intercepted, there was nothing she could do, except send him a letter about once a week when she remembered. This little paradise had all crashed down when during lunch on the 31st of July, everyone was reminiscing about Harry on his birthday. It was only when Tonks, one of the guards who watched Privet Drive, remarked that she hadn’t seen Harry come out of the house in weeks on her shift, that all the other guards commented the same. At that, troubled looks where exchanged, and finally, after a long discussion, Remus was sent to check on Harry, with the excuse that he wanted to tell him ‘Happy Birthday’ in person.

An hour later, Remus was back, his face ashen and eyes wide in fear: “He’s gone.”

Those words were followed by a stunned silence, before everyone was yelling and screaming accusations at each other. Moody finally managed to wrangle the whole story from the Werewolf, who was slumped on a chair, looking completely defeated. When Hermione heard that Harry had disappeared days if not weeks ago, she thought her heart had stopped. The adults quickly organized search parties, and Dumbledore was called. It was only when Snape, who looked even paler than usual, confirmed that Voldemort didn’t have Potter, and they realized that Harry had answered letters normally the week before, that the Weasleys, Hermione and Sirius started writing frantic letters and Howlers to him.

It was only much later, way after midnight, that an exhausted Hedwig brought back one single hurried note to Sirius:

_Hey Sirius,_

_I’m fine and happy. Don’t worry, I’m much safer here than at the Dursleys’._

_Harry_

Completely astounded by Harry’s lack of concern over his safety everyone’s temper, which had already been close to the surface the whole day, exploded and the biggest argument that Hermione had ever seen broke out, ending with Sirius and Professor Snape tackling each other to the ground and doing their best to rearrange the other’s facial features with their fists. The bewildered children where finally sent to bed by a haggard Mrs. Weasley, and Hermione stayed awake for hours, thinking over what had happened that day. Seething irritation and anger grew, wondering how Harry could have been so immature and stupid! How dare he run away from home when everyone was trying to keep him safe? Giving up on sleep, she padded down the stairs, and found Ron in the sitting room, staring morosely at the fire. They shared a look, and they sat there in silence for a long time. Finally, Ron started talking, wondering why Harry was so egoistic and realizing how their friendship had been ruined by Harry’s poor reckless choices in the years. He talked for a long time, while Hermione looked at him in silence. Finally, he turned his gaze away from the dying embers, and looked Hermione in the eyes. The flickering light drew mysterious patterns on her face, and he realized that they were really close. Some mysterious impulse made him slowly lean forward, till their lips were brushing and they were kissing. Hermione gasped, and Ron’s tongue traced her lips before moving inside her mouth. He pushed her back with his body till she was lying down on the sofa, and his body was covering hers.

Hermione felt something hard poking her thigh, but her befuddled brain didn’t even have time to process it when a warm large hand raised her shirt up and began fondling her breasts. Gasping, she arched her body, rubbing herself against Ron, and he became even bolder. He helped her shimmy out of her t-shirt and trailed kisses down her neck, her collarbone, before finally latching on her nipples, sucking them in his mouth and rolling them with his tongue. Hermione flinched, but still arched her back and grabbed his hair, pulling him against her breast. He pushed down on her, and started to rock his hips, his cock now nestled between her legs. Hermione gasped at the friction, her panties becoming wet, making Ron’s dick slide even more easily against her.

“Touch me, Hermione.”

Ron gasped against her chest, and a reckless impulse she had never felt before gripped Hermione’s mind. She hesitated one more moment, before telling herself:

‘You’re not a nerdy know-it-all, Hermione! Ron actually wants you! Come on, after this you can boast to your dorm mates!’

And she untangled one of her hands from Ron’s hair, trailing her fingers down his chest, making him groan and rock faster against her, before pressing her hand inside his pants, and grabbing his cock. Gasping in surprise, she squeezed his cock once, and Ron was coming in her hand, muffling his moans by biting her shoulder. Ron stilled and flopped bonelessly on top of her with a satisfied sigh, leaving her staring at the ceiling, aroused and wanting, and too shy to say anything.

Hours later, the two exhausted teens finally got up and silently decided to go to bed, sharing one last lingering kiss. That night, laying in their beds, both of them smugly thought that, wherever he was, Harry certainly wasn’t having this much fun, before falling in a deep blissful sleep, smiles on their faces.

* * *

Harry sighed heavily and leaned back against the bed’s headboard. The first week of school had been one of the most intense and stressful of his life, and he was very glad that it was finished. On Saturday night Hermione and Ron had confronted him in the middle of the bloody Common Room, and a huge argument had ensued, in which his so-called best friends basically told him he was a spoiled idiot for having run away from home and accused him of ruining their friendship with his carelessness and recklessness and whatnot. Harry had simply told them dismissively that they were the ones to have abandoned him, which resulted in Ron punching him in the face. The argument broke up with McGonagall arriving and taking off 20 points from Gryffindor and giving all three of them detention. This caused an uproar in the crowd who had witnessed the argument, seeing as Harry hadn’t even raised his voice when the other two were hurling insults and physically attacking him, and Harry’s detention was removed by a very sour Head of House, who realized that she almost had a revolt on her hands.

The next day, Sunday, Harry had then gone to Madam Johnson, the new Mediwitch, and after suspiciously accusing her of reporting everything back to the Headmaster (at which she went white with rage and angrily told him that patient/healer confidentiality was something she would never break even under torture), Harry finally grumpily consented to having some grief counseling sessions with her, which to his surprise consisted simply in talking to her about his issues or any other thing that he could think about. He didn’t really like her, but she was smart and well informed, and Harry was missing his long mature talks with Cassandra, Joshua, and even Fenrir, already.

The classes during the week had been grueling, with all the Professors making them dread their OWLs at the end of the year. Harry was also approached by a third year student with a note from Dumbledore telling him to meet him in his office. When he didn’t answer and didn’t show up, McGonagall kept him after Transfiguration, where Harry promptly informed her that if the Headmaster wanted to see him alone for something that wasn’t disciplinary measures, his solicitor Mark Gunnard had to be present, and so Dumbledore had to set an appointment with him, who would then proceed to tell Harry the time and place. When McGonagall actually had the guts to tell Harry that he was being an immature brat, Harry fixed her with an icy glare and told her that he may be immature, but at least he didn’t abandon infants on doorsteps in November. Seeing her pale, Harry stood up and with a curt goodbye was out of the office before she could get her wits back together.

As for the rest of the lessons, Snape had been pretty decent now that he was on probation. That is, he completely ignored Harry now, and treated the rest of the Gryffindors just like he usually did. Which honestly was completely fine for Harry who, aside from Neville, couldn’t care less about the others. Though Lavender and Parvati were growing on him…

Third year Ancient Runes was interesting, though Harry could make without the adoring stares some of the kids sent him. Harry was pretty sure that McGonagall had put him in the Ravenclaw/Slytherin class instead of with his own House for spite, but he was actually quite glad she had: those two houses worked very well together, and would probably get way ahead the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff class in no time.

Arithmancy was even more fascinating than Ancient Runes, and Harry found out that they were about at the same level as him, despite him having missed two years of lessons. Cassandra was just that good at explaining Ritual magic, of which Arithmancy was the foundantions. Harry was missing some of the basics and didn’t know the proper names of things, though he could draw some very complicated diagrams with ease, that his classmates struggled with. He had found himself sitting next to a boy he was pretty sure was called Zabini, a tall, handsome boy with beautiful skin that looked like he had spent the whole summer lounging in the sun. The boy noticed Harry’s once-over and smirked mischievously at him, his black hair falling in his eyes a bit, making Harry blush in embarrassment at getting caught and at the sudden stab of arousal. Amused, Zabini started chatting with Harry, somehow managing to make the most innocent sentences in innuendo, all the while looking as if he had no idea of the direction in which Harry’s thoughts were going, and actually asking him halfway through the lesson if he was feeling alright, because he was a little flushed, and maybe he should go to bed?

The second the lesson finished, Harry hurried out, not noticing Zabini’s smug smirk and discreet readjustment of his pants, and Greengrass and Davies sniggering at their friend. Harry ran to a less trafficked part of the castle and just managed to lock himself in an unused classroom before he was pulling his cock out of his pants, and with only a few sharp tugs he was coming with a breathy groan, imagining Zabini’s smirking dark eyes.

Harry collapsed to the ground, his spent cock still out and his trousers a mess and, catching his breath, decided that this was going to be an interesting year indeed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ancient Runes is with Ravenclaw/Slytherin 3rd years, while Arithmancy is all the houses together and Harry is with his own yearmates.
> 
> And did I ever mention that Bloodsingers don’t use surnames? Well, most of them don’t. Now you know.
> 
> Violence, sexual situations, a lot of swearing (Harry’s thoughts are not polite), and an Extra Scene at the end

The second week of school passed much more smoothly than the first, with Harry avoiding Zabini out of class as much as possible, and thankfully he wasn’t teased _that_ much in Arithmancy. Anyway, he gave as good as he got, and the two of them had a hard time at keeping straight faces, along with Greengrass and Davies, who were sitting close by and eavesdropping shamelessly on their conversations. Ron had taken exception when Harry walked out of the class chatting with Zabini and he was waiting for Hermione (and Harry was pretty pissed that their relationship was another thing that they hadn’t even told him about). Thankfully, Ron got the hint that who Harry talked to was none of his business after a few sharp words (or maybe it was just the fact that Hermione succeeded in dragging him away before he could cause a scene?).

Things unfortunately took a turn for the worst on Thursday during Defense Against the Dark Arts. The week before, Umbridge had had her lesson full of rowdy Gryffindors who demanded to know why there would be no practical work in class, and Harry had sat in silence, letting the outspoken morons get detention. This time though, the lions had learned their lesson, and they sat in sullen silence pretending to read their boring Ministry-approved books. This unfortunately left Umbridge with loads of idle time to waste, which she spent subtly (and then not-so-subtly when she failed to garner a reaction) baiting Harry.

Finally, Harry exploded at the latest ‘some children just live to disappoint their poor parents. It’s exactly those people who then go bad in this world’, and told the horrible toad exactly what he thought of her. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t very fond of amphibians, and he had a pretty colourful language (he blamed his new guardians Cassy and Joshua), so his little outburst earned him a week of detention, and to his annoyance the admiration of his fellow lions and Hermione’s fussing. The second the lesson ended, he locked himself in an unused classroom and ranted in his Protean charmed notebook for half an hour.

* * *

Harry ran into the infirmary, his hand caked with blood. Madam Johnson immediately hurried to his side:

“Harry! Dear Merlin, what happened? Are you bleeding?”

Nodding, he handed her Umbridge’s quill, idly wondering if the matron was all talk, or if she was actually going to do something. Madam Johnson stared at the quill in confusion, not understanding its significance. Looking back at Harry she saw that the boy was staring at her, distrust and hope warring on his face. Understanding that this must be something important, or Harry would never have come to her, especially in such a hurry she looked at the quill again. A few moments later her eyes widened in recognition:

“A Blood Quill! Oh Mordred and Morgana! Di-did someone _use it on you?_ Show me your hand! Merlin, Merlin! Here, you keep it for a moment! I’m Flooing the Aurors!”

And she immediately bustled to the fireplace, muttering profanities under her breath. Shocked, Harry blinked and looked down at the quill clutched in his hand. Grimly, he realized that he had been waiting for her to brush Umbridge’s actions off as nothing, and he would probably have gained another week of detentions at least for running out on the toad after one line and stealing her torture instrument. Merlin, he really had some serious trust issues. True, it was to be expected with the life he had led, but it was quite sad. Thankfully, his Potential status had made him trust Cassy and Joshua unconditionally, and his mind hadn’t changed now that he had been turned. Somehow, his trust had actually extended to Fenrir and some of the Werewolves in his pack too. Well, maybe not complete trust, more like the fact that he trusted that they wouldn’t turn him over to Voldemort or if one of them saw him in a life-and-death situation they would help him out. And wasn’t that a crazy thought! Imagine what Mrs. Weasley would say? Snickering at the mental image of a flabbergasted Mrs. Weasley when he told her he trusted Fenrir Greyback and then her furious rants when she got over the surprise, Harry looked up just in time to see the Aurors Floo in, and steeled himself for the inevitable.

* * *

Hours later, Harry was finally lying in bed, completely exhausted. They had lost loads of time because Harry had refused to give a statement before his solicitor showed up, and then the toad had appeared in the middle of questioning and started screaming bloody murder, especially when Harry told the Aurors that she had attacked him when he ran out of the class with the Blood Quill.

Sighing, he took out his Protean notebook, not really in the mood to rehash the evening’s events yet again, but knowing that it was inevitable, and Cassy would wring his neck if he didn’t tell her immediately that he had been forced to use what was apparently an illegal artifact. Wincing, he hoped that she wouldn’t make much of a fuss, but not really counting on it. The woman was quite possessive and paranoid when it came to her kids’ safety… she was a Bloodsinger after all. Still, Umbitch had been arrested, so maybe it was enough for her? One could always hope…

Harry resolutely ignored the little orphan part of him that was positively beaming and twinkling at the fact that he now had someone who cared about his safety and protected him from harm, and started writing the letter for Cassy, Joshua and Fenrir.

* * *

The next day, Harry had quite forgotten about the whole detention-fiasco of the day before, so he was rather surprised when the Daily Prophet was delivered, and Umbridge’s arrest (‘detained in Ministry Auror cells for the night’, the newspaper said) was front page news. Hogwarts’ rumour mill ran rampant the whole day, until Harry finally took pity on Greengrass and Davies in Arithmancy (they were quite the gossips, even though they usually tried to hide it behind an aloof mask), and told them his part in the whole debacle, since, being a minor and the victim, his solicitor had managed to keep his name from becoming public.

They were pleasantly surprised at his initiative, seeing as they had never actually talked (Harry had limited his interactions to sort-of flirting with Blaise), and they invited him to study together with the three of them in the library.

The day passed with no other problems, and Harry deluded himself in believing the Umbridge drama had ended. Unfortunately, before going to sleep he opened his Protean notebook, wondering what his family’s response was going to be. One single line stared back at him ominously in Fenrir’s handwriting:

_Don’t worry, Cassandra took care of the bitch._

Don’t worry? What the fuck? Argh! That man was a complete bastard! He knew perfectly well that Harry was damn well going to worry if he wrote something like that! Fuming, Harry tried to go to sleep, but only succeeded in tossing and turning for hours. Finally, he gave sleeping as a bad job, not having yet received an answer to his demands for more information, and grabbing his wood carving kit, he stalked to the Common Room. Thankfully, being a Bloodsinger, he needed less sleep than normal human beings, so he could easily go two days without sleeping and not feel tired, as long as he recuperated with a full night’s sleep afterwards.

That night, Harry used his extra time to carve a plant figurine, trying to copy a weird flower from his book _Fifty Strangest Plants of the World_ , and made a mental note to loan Neville the book. While his hands worked, his mind wandered, and he used the time to sort his thoughts and practice Occlumency. The first two weeks of school had been hectic, especially for the fact that he had made a bunch of new friends and abandoned his old ones, and that some of the Professors now treated him differently. Still, the two biggest issues that he had to sort through were Umbridge and Blaise.

Umbridge. Well, now there was a big moral dilemma. Harry knew the moment he read Fenrir’s answer in the Protean notebook that Cassandra (his Mother now… and just thinking of her made Harry go soft inside) had done something drastic. Sighing, he chipped another piece of wood off, and twirled the statuette around, looking at it from all angles. Cassy had probably physically hurt the woman a lot, there really wasn’t any other outcome. Ah well, he would probably find out tomorrow morning from the Daily Prophet or something… there wasn’t much he could do now except steeling himself for the worst… though he wasn’t actually sure that he was going to feel bad or guilty about whatever happened to the woman.

As for the other issue that was bothering him… Blaise… dark, handsome and charming Blaise… Merlin, he got hard just thinking about him… looking around, Harry noticed that he was quite alone, and the house-elves had already finished cleaning the Tower at this hour. He set his wood figurine down, and a thrill of arousal shot down his spine at the fact that he was going to wank in a public place. Merlin, he’ll never be able to look at this armchair the same way again.

Harry hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pajamas, and slowly pulled down to his thighs, teasing himself with the slow drag of the material. He had started sleeping commando this summer, and so the soft touch as the pants trailed down was quite effective. He trailed his hands back across his thighs, not touching his erection but getting closer to it with every sweep. His legs parted unconsciously, and his breathing grew ragged. His right hand trailed up his stomach, lifting his t-shirt, and his left hand finally, finally brushed his balls. He bit his lip to contain a moan, and brushed against them again, before grabbing them more firmly and rolling them in his hand.

Now getting impatient, Harry grabbed his cock with the other hand, and started pumping slowly. Damn it, but it felt so good! He imagined Blaise’s face, dark hair falling in his eyes a bit with casual elegance, and those sinful lips smirking at him. Merlin, that boy was sex on legs. One heated look and Harry just couldn’t stop his mind from imagining all kinds of porn involving him. And damn it, fondling his cock while imagining the Slytherin was making him harder that ever. His hand started to move faster and more roughly, twisting on the head and clenching spasmodically to heighten the sensations. His other hand went back to fondling his sac, and then lower. He pressed the spot just beneath his balls, sending a frisson of pleasure up his spine, and then began circling his pucker with a finger. Oh Merlin! That felt _good_ … why in the world had he never touched himself there before? Oh, _oh._ Fuck yes, that was intense… his hand clenched tighter on his cock, and he stroked the warm length even faster, his other hand still circling his virgin hole. He added a bit of pressure, and the tip of his finger was inside and _Merlin_ he was coming harder than he had in months, covering his hand and legs and the armchair in spunk and making a mess.

He slumped back in the armchair, his breathing still coming fast, and a drop of sweat trailing down his forehead. Enjoying the utter relaxation and post-coital bliss, Harry was almost catatonic, when he heard a crash from one of the dorms upstairs. Jumping up in panic, he hastily cleaned himself and the damn armchair and hurriedly put his pants back on. Looking at his watch, he noticed that it was quite late and the early risers were going to start waking up. Flushing in mortification at the thought of getting caught while jerking off and touching himself _there_ in the Common Room, but feeling pretty smug all the same, he went upstairs to change in his school robes and wait for Neville.

* * *

Watching as Harry fidgeted nervously in his seat at breakfast, twirling his fang earring, Neville was worried. Seeing Harry so anxious wasn’t really something unusual, but Neville already associated it with the ‘old Harry’, whereas this ‘new Harry’ that had come back to Hogwarts this year laughed and relaxed much more, and still managed to pay attention in class and be one of the best in their year. So, Neville worried.

“Harry? Are you all right?”

Looking at Neville in surprise, Harry realized that he had been squirming nervously and flushed in embarrassment.

“Y-yeah… do you get the Daily Prophet?”

Neville nodded in confusion, and Harry explained:

“I-I’m pretty sure that something happened… and yeah, it’s making me jittery…”

“I-is it ab-about Y-You-Know-Who?” Neville whispered, paling dramatically.

Harry stared at the boy in confusion, before erupting in genuine laughter.

“Oh, Merlin no! You know, it’s been like months since I actually last thought of Voldemort? No, no, this has to do with Umbridge and how angry Mother is going to be…”

Still giggling, Harry didn’t notice half the Gryffindor table staring at him: between his unusual display of cheerfulness, the fact that he had said the Dark Lord’s name, and that he had called someone ‘mother’, they had attracted a lot of attention.

Thankfully, everyone was distracted by the arrival of the owls. Those receiving the Daily Prophet gasped in horror the moment they looked at it, and Harry cowardly put it off by sorting through his mail first. He put the usual fan mail away to read in the early morning hours when he was awake and had nothing better to do, and was pleasantly surprised to see a letter from Jean. They hadn’t kept in contact much, but they wrote to each other when they were in the mood to write porn. Smirking at his new batch of wanking material, Harry looked through the rest of his mail, and noticed that his family had sent him yet another care package. Inside was only a short note from Joshua along with various cookies and sweets:

_Hey little Harry!_

_We’re kind of sorry? I know that you’re a pretty moral person, and that you probably won’t agree with Mother’s actions, but there really wasn’t much else to be done. And I wouldn’t have been able to stop her even if I wanted to (which I didn’t). So, sorry kid, but I (we… Cassy most certainly thinks the same) don’t regret. Be safe._

_Love, Joshua_

Blanching, Harry looked up from the note, and saw that Neville was staring at him, pale and clutching the Daily Prophet. Extending his hand in a silent question, Nev passed him the newspaper, and Harry finally had a good look at it. He gasped: covering half the front page was a photo of Cassandra, staring at the camera in anger… and Merlin, Harry had never seen such savage, homicidal anger on his sweet mother’s face, her expression contorting in murderous fury. She was half covered in blood, clumps of hair sticking to the right side of her face because of it, and her light blue robes stained with gore and flecks of blood and completely ruined. Her plain face had transformed into something beautiful really, though in a barbaric and bestial way. Like a hungry, majestic beast that you admired from afar. Very, very far away. Trembling, his eyes wide, Harry stared at the picture, before gathering his courage enough to read the article and interview:

**Umbridge killed by vengeful Bloodsinger**

_Yesterday, Senior Undersecretary and Hogwarts Professor Dolores Umbridge was detained for the night in the Ministry holding cells, accused of having used an illegal artifact, a Blood Quill, on a minor in her short tenure as Hogwarts Professor. What was not known though was the fact that this underage student was, in fact, the protégé of Bloodsinger Cassandra. She is one of the most acclaimed Ritual Masters in the world, and the Healer whose testimony this summer resulted in Headmaster Dumbledore’s probation, and charges to be brought against mediwitch Poppy Pomfrey, school nurse at Hogwarts, which lead to her sacking from the school._

_Bloodsinger Cassandra stalked into the Ministry minutes after Umbridge was released on bail, and attacked her viciously._

_“It was horrible,” says Joanna Grally, a secretary in the Auror department and witness to the murder, “one moment everything was proceeding just like any other normal day, and the next moment she comes out of nowhere and tears Umbridge apart with her bare hands. Morgana, I have never seen that much blood in my life. She smacked Umbridge against a wall before killing her, and afterwards the whole place was soaked in blood, spurts of it actually ending up on the ceiling. A-and then she simply left. She didn’t say a word, just checked Umbridge’s remains for a pulse and stalked off, her little kid trailing behind her. I-I mean, I might sort of theoretically understand killing someone who wronged you, but bringing a child to the scene? And letting him witness the carnage? Some of the Aurors vomited at the sight! And they’re used to murder and mayhem!”_

_Thankfully, it was later found out that the kid was actually 45 year old illustrious Potions Master Joshua, who is also a Bloodsinger and resembles a 7 year old child._

_Before leaving the Ministry, Bloodsinger Cassandra answered the press’ questions, while still covered in blood:_

_Q: Bloodsinger Cassandra, why did you kill Senior Undersecretary Umbridge, and why in such a public setting?_

_A: As some of you may already know, Bloodsingers are protected by international laws, and have the right to defend their families viciously. I don’t really care about the fact that I murdered in a public setting… it was simply the place where I found her. If she had been anywhere else, I would have done the exact same thing. That’s what you get for messing with my baby._

_Q: Who is this child you are protecting? Was he hurt by Undersecretary Umbridge?_

_A: No comment._

_Q: Is it true that Minister Fudge threatened to have you arrested and Kissed?_

_A: Yes, my solicitor is already filing a lawsuit for intimidation and misuse of office. The only way that Minister Fudge could arrest me would be if an international court decreed that I attacked and killed an innocent citizen, but seeing as that woman physically attacked my son yesterday, there is no case._

_Q: Don’t you think that these laws are very biased towards Bloodsingers? After all, one might bump into your son on the street and you would have the legal grounds to attack him._

_A: That is an oversimplification of the issue. Bloodsingers are only this violent when sufficiently provoked. In any case, witches and wizards have similar rights. If I had been a human, I would have demanded a duel with Umbridge, or for her to submit to the Coin of Fate [a Dark artifact which makes the victim relieve all the hateful and hurtful moments in their lives unless they repent] and she would have gone insane._

_Q: The Coin of Fate is illegal!_

_A: Ah, but I have honorary Croatian citizenship at the moment… and there it’s perfectly legal. Also, there are some nifty archaic extradition laws between wizarding UK and Croatia that would have signified that, unless you wanted a war to break out, the Wizengamot would have had to hand over Umbridge. Sure, it would have taken much more time, but the end result would have been the same._

* * *

Harry stared at the newspaper in shock, blinking repeatedly. Cassandra had killed – _torn to pieces_ \- Umbridge in the middle of the Auror Department? Really, he had no idea if he should feel horrified or amused or something else.

Blinking, he looked up at Neville’s worried face, and noticed that the Great Hall had emptied. They stood up and hurried to class, not wanting to be late, and when they were halfway there, Neville finally gathered enough courage to ask:

“H-Harry? W-was that y-your guardian?”

“Y-yeah… I didn’t know she was going to do something like that… I mean, when Umbridge made me use that horrid quill, I went to Madam Johnson and she called the Aurors. I thought that she was going to be fired from Hogwarts, but not much else… I wasn’t expecting something like, like _this._ ”

He waved the newspaper, that was still clutched tightly in his hand, and Neville nodded slowly.

“Yes, well, it’s difficult to adjust to sudden changes like that… I mean, you just became a Bloodsinger this summer, and well, it’s a huge change isn’t it? You need time to get used to it…”

Harry stared at Neville, gaping:

“Y-you know I’m a Bloodsinger?”

Neville flushed, but continued boldly:

“Yes, well… you changed a lot, and not all of it can be explained away with a growth spurt and a tan. And your eyes are different… t-they’re mesmerizing…”

Neville muttered, tomato red, and Harry grinned at him, waggling him eyebrows suggestively.

“Why, Neville, was that a come on? I’m amazed at your boldness, I must confess…”

Neville punched him on the arm, now grinning too, and answered cheekily:

“Of course not! Susan told me that you flirt with Zabini the whole time in Arithmancy, and I really don’t want to have a jealous Slytherin on my case, thank you very much.”

It was Harry’s turn to flush scarlet. Merlin, he hadn’t thought that the rest of the class had noticed the innuendo! How embarrassing!

Neville laughed at his mortified expression, and ducked Harry’s half-hearted swipe. Sniggering, he took off towards their first class, dodging Harry’s attempt at tackling him and getting all the details he had heard from the rumor mill out of him.

Harry smiled, realizing that in the last two weeks Neville had become a great friend, and he missed Ron and Hermione always less. Grinning, Harry hurried after him, trying to get to their class on time.

* * *

**EXTRA (set in the first week of school):**

“Potter!”

Harry jumped, not having noticed Snape coming over to his table, and staring intently at his cauldron.

“Have you finally gotten lucky? You have never brewed a halfway decent potion in your life, and this one is perfect! Have you imbibed Felix Felicis perhaps? You know, right, that I will have to give you a zero for today’s lesson. Enhancing your senses during examinations is illegal.”

“Actually, Professor,” Harry replied calmly, adding the lacewing flies and stirring clockwise twice, “I had a tutor during the summer.”

“A tutor, Potter? And who was this poor fool who finally managed to make you understand the simplest concepts?”

The stupid Slytherin side of the class (aka Malfoy and his cronies) started sniggering, till Harry answered:

“It was Potion Master Joshua.”

Harry successfully contained his laughter at Snape’s hilarious thunderstruck face, but the rest of the Gryffindors didn’t have such restraint, making the Professor utterly mad and losing their house fifty points. Furious, Snape rounded back on Harry and sneered:

“Of course, Potter is so arrogant and conceited that he only has to have the best. He pays a world renown Potions Master to teach him concepts which are learned in your first year at Hogwarts.”

Arching an eyebrow, Harry coolly replied:

“Actually Professor, Joshua wouldn’t make family pay. He is my guardian after all…”

And Harry continued brewing his potion in silence, not paying any mind to the rest of the class, half of whom, including the Professor, were staring at him slack-jawed, and the other half wondering who the hell this Joshua guy was.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The small poem is taken from ‘The Tales of Beedle the Bard’. Also, the concept of wands having ‘memories’ comes from there.  
> As usual: some bashing, some crude language & thoughts, and some Harry getting annoyed

After the commotion with Umbridge, the next months passed calmly, with only Dumbledore trying to corner Harry a few times, and Harry managing to slip away by a hair’s breadth. In these instances he was always very thankful for his new burgeoning abilities: seeing magical flows wasn’t something very useful in a place as highly saturated with magic as Hogwarts, but he had quickly learnt to distinguish Dumbledore’s particular aura and now, even without the help of the Marauder’s Map, he had gotten quite good at avoiding the old man. It was honestly the most useful thing about his Bloodsinger status. Joshua said that he would notice bigger changes in time, since most abilities took a while to settle completely in. Harry wasn’t really enthused to start drinking blood, even though it would only be very rarely, and his guardians had a huge collection of bottles, that reminded Harry of some wine enthusiasts he had seen once on television.

It was a day at the beginning of December that found Harry in the Forbidden Forest with Luna, feeding the Thestrals. He had just had a huge row with Weasley, again. This time, the jerk had been pissed off because Gryffindor had lost the Quidditch match against Slytherin last weekend. So, obviously, it was Harry’s fault, since he had refused to play for ‘a bunch of backstabbing traitors’ as he had called them when he dropped out of the team, angry at something he couldn’t remember at the moment. Probably Ron’s goading, actually.

Of course Ronald, who had let every single Quaffle thrown by the Slytherins get through the hoops, was absolutely blameless. And to think, that that song, ‘ _Weasley is our King_ ’, was such a catching tune. Really, Malfoy had found his calling as a songwriter.

Harry sighed, and hoped at least that Hermione would lay off soon. Really, when she defended her sweetheart from perceived wrongs she was even worse than when she went in ‘bossy know-it-all’ mode.

Hearing Luna giggle, Harry looked up, and eyebrow raised in question.

“You’re cute when you are pouting, Harry.”

“I’m not pouting!”

And no, he wasn’t whining either!

Luna just giggled some more, and Harry smiled despite himself. There was just something about the girl that calmed and relaxed him. Neville was a nice bloke and a good friend, and Blaise -that wonderful, sultry flirt- was fast becoming his best friend, despite the unresolved sexual tension between them. But Luna, little sweet Luna, she was always there, happy to spend a few hours in comfortable silence with Harry when those bloody Gryffindors he was surrounded with became too much.

Harry looked at her better: she had long blond hair, uncombed and with a few twigs and leaves tangled in it. Her big eyes had a perpetual dreamy look about them, and she was adorned with weird necklaces and earrings, her wand kept behind her ear for safekeeping. Harry wondered yet again what weird type of creature blood the girl had.

Sensing his scrutiny, Luna looked up, and they both froze for a moment, finding themselves at only a few inches of distance. They stared in each other’s eyes, and Harry didn’t know if it was him who moved first or her, but next second Luna was in his arms, and he was kissing those soft, pink lips.

It was a nice kiss, sweet and slow, and the two teens’ tongues twirled lazily around and explored the other’s mouth. A few minutes later they drew apart, their foreheads still touching, and they looked at each other, panting slightly.

Luna suddenly smiled hugely and took a step back:

“Thank you, it was a really nice first kiss, but you really are silly…”

“Mmm? Silly? What do you mean?”

Luna giggled, and her eyes dropped to Harry’s crotch:

“Obviously, I’m not the right gender for you…”

Harry flushed scarlet at her forwardness, and wondered how Luna actually managed to make him feel guilty about the fact that he _didn’t_ have a hard on! And the girl simply laughed outright at his mortification, and pushed him back towards the castle, reminding him that he was almost late for his weekly study group with the Slytherins!

Harry shook his head, willing his blush to recede, and pondered on Luna’s words as he hurried inside: Merlin, why hadn’t he given this any thought before? He had been sexually active since his birthday, and yet he had never actually stood back and reflected on his preferences. Yes, he had thought about Blaise, and Jean and the other men he had kissed and flirted with, but it had been more of a one-on-one basis. How had he missed the fact that they were all, you know, _men?_ Really, he felt like a complete moron! How had he never noticed that he had never looked at a girl that way? Yes, he noticed pretty girls, but he didn’t really have the desire to get them naked. Kissing Luna had been an impulse, more stemmed out of the fact the he liked her as a friend than of a real sexual attraction… He felt a bit silly about figuring this now after so much time, but just because he subconsciously knew that he wasn’t interested in girls, didn’t mean he had ever realized it before.

Sighing, Harry tried to push the whole event out of his mind: he certainly wasn’t going to think about his sexual preferences when Blaise was around!

He finally arrived to the unused classroom they used to study together, and noticed that Blaise, Tracey and Daphne were already there, practicing Charms. Harry smiled and greeted them, before bending down and retrieving his second wand from the holster in his boot. Daphne noticed the action and asked curiously:

“Hey Harry! Why do you use that wand sometimes instead of your first wand?”

The other two Slytherins stopped their casting and turned around, curious about his answer.

“Well, this was my mother’s wand, and she was really good at Charms. Cassandra, my guardian, told me that wands have a memory of sorts, and so I found out that if I practice a new Charm with this wand, the spell comes easier and quicker than with my primary wand.”

“Oh, that’s smart! You’re lucky to have such a good match for you second wand though… my second works much worse than my first one, even though it was my father’s and he was a genius in Defense…” Blaise remarked thoughtfully.

“Was he now? And here I was, thinking that your mother managed to off him real easy and undetectably…” Daphne said pompously.

Blaise smirked –making Harry wonder if such a sinful expression was illegal- and drawled:

“Well, my mother _is_ one of a kind… poor woman, all her husbands dropped mysteriously dead and left her with all their riches… Though to be fair,” Blaise continued in a more serious voice, “my father was only the second, so he wasn’t really expecting to get killed. The last ones though… well, let’s just say that I’m thankful that stupidity isn’t contagious.”

Everyone laughed at that, and Tracey suddenly asked Harry with an eyebrow waggle, and a mischievous gleam in her eye and:

“What type of wood is your wand? Is it hazel? Because you know how the saying goes:

_Rowan gossips, chestnut drones,_

_Ash is stubborn, hazel moans.”_

“W-what! No, it’s not hazel! It’s walnut! And willow!”

Blaise was suddenly behind the embarrassed boy, his toned body pressed against his back, and whispered in Harry’s ear:

“Too bad… I would have liked to hear you moan Harry…”

The girls giggled as Harry’s blush darkened. Scowling, the boy playfully pushed Blaise away, while digging in his pocket and finding a small sweet. Unwrapping it swiftly behind his back, Harry leaned closer to the dark eyed boy, almost as if to kiss him and, catching Blaise by surprise, pushed the candy inside Blaise’s mouth.

The Slytherin’s eyes widened comically, and suddenly, he was transformed into a big yellow canary with an indignant _squack_. The three kids started laughing again, as the normally very poised boy puffed his feathers in annoyance, and Harry made a mental note to ask the Weasley twins for a few more joke products.

* * *

Harry was sitting in the Hogwarts Express, thinking back on the events of the last week, and ignoring Blaise, Daphne, Tracey, Neville and Luna as they chatted between themselves.

Dumbledore had finally managed to catch him, and they had had a very intense discussion in a thankfully empty corridor. Or rather, Harry had spouted a bunch of angry accusations and Dumbledore had barely managed to get a word in. Harry had to restrain his sniggers at the thought of Dumbledore’s face when he told him about the Horcrux. Flabbergasted was to put it mildly… though Harry had the strong feeling that Old Bumblebee had known about it, and was only surprised that Harry had discovered it.

Harry sighed, and tried not to be too disappointed about the fact that Dumbledore hadn’t put him under another Compulsion: he could have had him arrested for it! The protection on his earring would have neutralized it immediately, so there wouldn’t have been any consequences for Harry… ah well, too bad. Anyway, his parting shot had been epic:

_“If you don’t leave me alone Professor, I’m going to join the people who say that Voldemort isn’t really back, and it’s only your senility that’s talking…”_

_The threat had hung in the air and Harry, smugly watching Dumbledore’s shocked expression, had turned around and swept away._

He really had put on a fantastic performance, if Harry said so himself.

Watching the scenery change outside the train window and lost in thought, Harry smiled when he remembered his last conversation with Madam Johnson: he had recounted his meeting with the Basilisk, and the woman had made him explain his feelings about those terrifying events, and especially the reasons why he had been so proud of being a ‘true Gryffindor’ and scared of being in any way associated with the house of snakes. Obviously, a big part of his thoughts had been influenced by the Compulsions, but there was still a part of Harry that was prejudiced against Slytherin, despite many of his new friends being in that House. Really, Harry hadn’t even known that he needed to re-examine his feelings on the Hogwarts Houses, and Madam Johnson had solved the issue in the space of an hour!

Maybe he should get her a Christmas present? He’d have to ask Cassy for some advice…

Luna gently touched his arm and, looking around, Harry realized that they had arrived at King’s Cross. Smiling sheepishly, he stood up, checking that his trunk was still in his pocket, thankful that his multi-compartment trunk had a shrinking feature.

Grinning, Harry jumped down the train, and turned around to help the girls down. Daphne giggled and kissed his cheek and Tracey sent him a roguish grin. The group exchanged ‘Merry Christmases’ and pleasantries and they all promised each other to write, and then Harry went looking for Sirius.

When Sirius had first asked him to spend Christmas with him, Harry had immediately written Cassandra, worried about her reaction. He had been completely torn, wanting to spend the holidays with his new family, but also eager to finally get to know his godfather. Cassy had quickly found the best solution: Harry was going to spend the first week of holidays with Sirius and then on eitherBoxing Day or on the 27th, he would Portkey to Greyback Camp. Harry was a bit sad about missing Christmas, but Cassy had assured him that they had stopped celebrating the holiday properly when Joshua had grown up. Mentally that is. Being stuck as a little child for decades must be terrible. Fifteen was much better, thankfully!

Cassandra, Joshua and Fenrir usually tried to be together around the holidays, but more often then not they simply sent the others small trinkets from wherever they were at the moment. So, they had decided to exchange gifts on New Year’s this time, and Harry was privately thrilled about the fact that the three of them moved Christmas celebrations only for him, no matter how much they insisted that it really wasn’t an exceptional occurrence and not to worry.

Looking around the Platform, Harry finally spotted his escort, and almost activated his Portkey to Greyback Camp there and then. Unfortunately, Lupin spotted him at the same moment, and actually had the gall to _smile and wave_ at him! He jogged up to Harry, and was about to hug him when Harry stepped back with a snarl, his fangs elongating with his anger. Remus’ face fell, and Harry almost felt guilty about his extreme reaction, before remembering that Lupin had tried to kidnap him the last time they had seen each other, and had caused Harry to have a panic attack. So no, he wasn’t the one who had to apologize! Even though Lupin didn’t actually remember any of it! As Madam Johnson would say: ‘Don’t bottle up your emotions, kid! And stop feeling guilty for other people’s actions! You’re not responsible for them!’

I mean really, come on, the werewolf had almost killed him in third year, and he had never even apologized for _that_ … he knew that he was going to become a man-eating monster and he _forgot his medicine?_ And the man was a Professor at the time!

Breathing deeply to calm himself and trying to stop his mental rant, Harry snapped:

“Let’s go,” and led the way out of the Platform, a forlorn and confused Lupin following behind, along with a clumsy girl with pink hair, who introduced herself as Tonks. Harry was thankful that she was there, because the rest of the journey to Sirius’ house would have passed in awkward silence if not for her chattering.

* * *

Harry stepped inside the house, Grimmauld Place apparently, which had appeared after he read the address on a small piece of paper. Aghast, he stared at the décor, which seemed to come straight out of a Muggle second-rate horror film. Shaking his head at the house-elf stuffed heads, Harry tried to make as little noise as possible, mindful of Tonks’ weird advice, and only grinned hugely when he saw Sirius. His godfather beckoned him closer, and the two of them walked inside the kitchen, finally able to hug and speak out loud.

“Merlin, Harry! Don’t you look smashing, kid! I bet the girls are all falling at your feet!”

Sirius waggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly, and Harry snorted with mirth. He was about to make a lewd comment about how it was the _boys_ that he wanted at his feet, when he noticed the other occupants of the kitchen. Half the Weasley family was sitting in silence at the table, and they were all sporting red, puffy eyes and miserable expressions. Raising an eyebrow at Sirius, his godfather immediately sobered, and steered Harry upstairs to his bedroom.

“Here, this is your bedroom. You’re sharing with Ron.”

Harry chocked, and stared at Sirius in dismay.

“No? I thought you where best friends…”

“We’re not. We haven’t talked to each other since last June. Well, to be fair, sometimes Weasley remembers my existence and yells and insults me, but I wouldn’t count that as talking…”

“Oh. Well, we’ll find another room then. Regulus’ room hasn’t been used yet…”, Sirius stated awkwardly. They walked upstairs, and the man grimaced at the Slytherin theme when he opened the door:

“Sorry kid, it’s the only free one we’ve got.”

“It’s all right… better than sleeping with Weasley anyways…”

“Yes… well…”, Sirius fidgeted a bit, before sitting down on the bed next to Harry.

“Harry… you saw the Weasley family?”

“Yeah, they looked pretty forlorn. What happened?”

Sirius sighed heavily and dragged a hand through his hair:

“Arthur died last night. They found him this morning real early, and the kids managed to Floo here from Dumbledore’s office before the Express left.”

“W-wait, what? He died? But how? I mean, was it a stroke, or something?”

Sirius grimaced, “No, he was bitten by something real poisonous. Dumbledore reckons it was probably Voldemort’s snake…”

“What!? Fucking Nagini broke into the Burrow?”

“No, Merlin, no! Arthur was at the Ministry, guarding the p-… something…”

Sirius finished lamely, and Harry stared at him in shock:

“Are you telling me, that Voldemort’s giant man-eating poisonous snake was loose in the Ministry and no one even noticed?”

“W-well, it was the middle of the night…”

“The middle of the night? And what in the world was the man doing there at that hour?”

Sirius grimaced again, and looked to be struggling to find the words, when something finally clicked for Harry:

“Wait, you said he was guarding something?” Harry asked with narrowed eyes, “so does it have something to do with this ‘Order of the Phoenix’ this place is the Headquarters of?”

Sirius nodded glumly, resigned to going against Dumbledore’s orders and telling Harry everything, when his godson’s next words shocked him to the core:

“Ok, then I really don’t want to know. It has nothing to do with me.”

Sirius stared at Harry, wide-eyed from the cold and bitter tone the kid had used, and for the first time in his life he realized, really really realized, that Harry wasn’t a younger copy of James, but was his own person. And, from what Sirius had glimpsed in the last half an hour, Harry was probably much darker and indifferent than anyone in this house had ever imagined.

* * *

In the next four days, Harry found out that Sirius was quite knowledgeable, and they had a bunch of interesting discussions about types of magic not included in Hogwarts’ curriculum. Sirius actually gave Harry permission to use the library, which only Blacks or someone invited by house’s owner could enter. Harry reciprocated by showing him some of his books that couldn’t be found in England, the ones on the most famous Magical Weapons and world’s weirdest plants becoming immediately new favorites for Sirius. Snickering at the man’s child-like excitement, Harry had happily loaned them to him, and Sirius could be seen reading in the evenings, sniggering at the more outlandish facts.

Hermione had actually time to be jealous that Harry had been given free rein of the whole library, despite being occupied the whole time with comforting Ronald. Harry guessed that she had finally opened her legs for him: Weasley hadn’t kept his displeasure at his girlfriend not putting out secret in the past months. Harry, on his part, really couldn’t care less about their sexual life (because, really? Ewww…), and didn’t let Hermione’s poisonous glances make him feel guilty. Actually, the hours spent in the huge library at Grimmauld were the only things worth the holiday… yeah, the long chats with Sirius were nice and all, but Harry thought the man was immature and the two of them had very different opinions on just about everything, so they still hadn’t become completely comfortable with each other, and there were quite a lot of awkward pauses in their talks. Sirius hadn’t even had the guts to ask him about his Bloodsinger status, even though it was obviously bothering the man.

As for the rest of the holiday… well, when Sirius had asked Harry to spend Christmas with him, Harry had naively thought that he would get to spend, you know, Christmas with Sirius. And instead, he found himself in the middle of a bloody circus: a bunch of grieving Weasleys, a clumsy Metamorphmagus that lusted after a clueless Werewolf, a heavily scarred paranoid ex-Auror that should have been his Professor but actually wasn’t, a crook that had stopped stealing Sirius’ heirlooms only after Harry had cursed him…

So, Harry had found himself yearning for Greyback Camp from day one, and regretting his decision to spend a whole week here: why in the world couldn’t he have come visit Sirius simply for a few hours one day? And today was only the 24th… how was he going to survive two more days? Merlin, he was going to Portkey out of here the moment he woke up on Boxing Day.

Sighing heavily, Harry made his way to dinner, hoping that Mrs. Weasley wasn’t again going to insult Sirius or anyone else tonight, because he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to control his temper. He should get a medal for his patience really: who had ever heard of a Bloodsinger who was so calm anyway? If Cassandra had been in his place the last four months, half the Hogwarts population would be dead.

Harry arrived in the entrance hall just as Shacklebolt and Tonks were coming in and, as usual, the clumsy girl tripped on the umbrella stand, waking up Mrs. Black. Harry stared at the portrait curiously: he had heard her yell plenty of times, but he had never been nearby when it happened.

Sirius and Lupin ran out of the kitchen, wanting to help close the curtain, when Mrs. Black suddenly fell silent. Everyone stared in shock, wondering what had happened, when the harpy spoke in a normal tone of voice:

“Child, come closer.”

Bemused, Harry realized she was talking to him, and exchanged an incredulous glance with Sirius.

“What’s your name, child?”

“Harry…”

Walburga Black smiled, and for the first time you could glimpse the good looks she must have possessed in her youth.

“Well, Bloodsinger Harry, it is a pleasure to have you here, in the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black.”

Harry’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline, impressed that the portrait had guessed his creature status with only a quick glance. Grinning, Harry thanked her, and turned around: the other four people that had been in the hall at the time were staring at Harry in utter shock, and the silence was deafening.

“H-Harry? D-did she say _Bloodsinger?”_

Harry smirked at Remus, and made one of his fangs peek out. Lupin flinched, and Sirius visibly recoiled.

“W-what! Harry! You’re a Dark Creature! Does Dumbledore know? I’m going to kill the bastard who dared turn you!”

Harry frowned at Lupin and snapped:

“Why in the world would I trust that asshole Dumbledore?”, a gasp from the kitchen caught Harry’s attention, and he realized that they had attracted a crowd, but that didn’t stop him from saying irately: “And anyway, it was **my** decision to be turned!”

Sirius blanched at this and, recovering his wits, began screaming at Harry at the same time as Mrs. Weasley started clamoring for explanations. Hearing her son’s not-very-friendly words and question-demands, Mrs. Black started insulting him and the ‘bloodtraitors and filth’, adding to the ruckus. Harry for his own part snarled at Lupin, who was trying to convince him to trust the Headmaster and that ‘everything will be alright’ or some such rot. Thankfully, Shacklebolt pushed Lupin away before Harry tore his throat out in anger and, grabbing Harry’s arm, dragged the Bloodsinger upstairs.

Closing his eyes, Harry leant against the wall, and tried to calm himself down, shutting out the yelling that was still coming from downstairs.

“Better, kid?”

Shacklebolt’s deep voice rolled over Harry, and he opened his eyes to look at the serious man.

“Yeah, thanks Shacklebolt. I really wasn’t expecting a reaction like that. I mean, it’s pretty obvious that I’m a Bloodsinger, you know? It’s not like I keep it hidden or something. I actually snarled at Lupin a couple of days ago, can’t believe he didn’t even realize.”

“You may call me Kingsley, no need to be formal, kid,” the Auror quirked his lips, and Harry was surprised to note that he was quite good looking… very macho and virile… fuck, he was really sex-starved if he was checking _Shacklebolt_ out! The man reminded him of Fenrir a bit, though the Werewolf was much more easy-going and irascible and wild… ok maybe the only thing they had in common was the stature and the muscles… big, powerful muscles…

Harry ducked his head to hide the blush staining his cheeks, mentally berating himself for the direction his thoughts had taken, and deciding to go clubbing with Cassandra the moment he was back home.

“Kid… you know right, that it’s now going to be hell for you here?”

Harry groaned, having forgotten his predicament as his mind wandered in la-la-land. Gritting his teeth at the flood of anger that came back as soon as he noticed that people were _still_ shouting downstairs, Harry finally decided that he had had enough.

“Fine. They want to rant and rave about my life when they never even cared before? Fuck them, I’m going back home. Like hell that I’m spending Christmas with that bunch of cretins.”

Kingsley smiled sadly, and didn’t stop Harry from packing all his things, and pocketing the shrunken trunk. He simply laid a hand on the teen’s shoulder and wished him a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Harry smiled at the man and hugged him impulsively. Smirking at his surprised expression, Harry ran out the front door with a whoop of joy, dodging anyone who tried to catch him, and, clutching the Thestral pendant that his Mother had made for him, whispered the Parseltongue activation phrase, disappearing in a whirlwind of colours.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, and I am not really convinced at how it flows, but at least Fenrir is finally back?

Harry landed just outside the wards of Greyback Camp, and slowly made his way to the silent village, noticing that it was starting to be really late. A noise to his left made Harry turn around, and he was startled to find himself face-to-face with a frowning Fenrir.

“Hey kid. What are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to come back the day after tomorrow?”

Harry shrugged lightly, and turned around to walk towards the village.

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t stand it anymore. There was this whole vigilante anti-Voldemort group at the house I was staying, and they stressed me out.”

“Vigilante anti-Voldemort group?” Fenrir chuckled, “You mean you were stuck in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix all this time? Tough luck kid.”

Harry joined Fenrir’s snickers, because really? It was pretty hilarious how his peaceful Christmas had gone up in flames the moment he stepped into that creepy house.

Looking at Fenrir from the corner of his eyes, Harry noticed that the Werewolf’s dark brown hair, even braided as it was at the moment, reached mid-back.

“Your hair’s longer.”

“I’ve been growing it out since the Dark Lord came back. It’s traditional.”

Harry snorted. _Purebloods._ Fenrir’s eyes immediately narrowed, and he snapped.

“Don’t snort at me, pup.”

“Oh course not,” Harry said condescendingly, “wouldn’t want to offend your honoured pureblood traditions… or Merlin forbid! The Dark Lord!”

“What the fuck is your problem? It’s not like those damn Muggles or the Light side treated you decently.”

“Yeah, well, at least I don’t have to grovel for a madman!”

Harry had no idea how their talk had degenerated into an argument so quickly, but he had already been pissed the whole day, and Fenrir was the only one on which he could expel his temper at the moment.

Fenrir’s eyes flashed, and he grabbed Harry forcefully by the hair, growling in anger and yanking his head back… and Harry’s breath hitched at the forceful grip.

Both immediately froze in surprise and stared at each other in shocked silence, neither of them expecting the teen’s reaction. Harry flushed crimson: he had become aroused at the rough treatment! Fuck, what was wrong with his hormones today? First Kingsley and now this! He hadn’t even known that he liked to be dominated!

Though, thinking back, it actually made sense: excluding Luna, he had never initiated a sexual encounter, and almost always let the other lead. Actually, the ones he liked best were when he was caught by surprise and swept off his feet, like the night of his fifteenth birthday.

Looking at the flushed gorgeous face of the boy before him, Fenrir acted on impulse the second the shock passed: he smashed their lips together, and when the Bloodsinger responded eagerly, he slammed him into the nearest tree, making his breath hitch again, in pain or pleasure he didn’t really care, and then proceeded to plunder the boy’s warm mouth thoroughly.

When Harry started shamelessly rubbing himself on the hard body in front of him and moaning, increasing the Werewolf’s arousal tenfold, Fenrir had a sudden, horrible moment of lucidity and remembered that this was in fact **HARRY**. Harry the Bloodsinger, Cassy and Joshua’s protégé, Harry bloody Potter and Boy-Who-Lived extraordinaire.

“Fuck.”

He pushed the horny teen away, surveyed him for a moment, blinking, and stalked off without a word.

Completely astounded, Harry stared after Fenrir, trying to get his scrambled thoughts back together: the man had grabbed him, completely ravaged him and left him halfway through, leaving him aroused and wanting. What the fuck? Bloody tease!

Shaking his head, Harry decided to give up and go to bed skipping dinner, because today things really weren’t going his way. He left a note on the kitchen table to tell the others that he was home, and trudged up the stairs, plonking down on his bed completely dressed, only taking his shoes off before he was asleep, completely exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster today had been.

* * *

The next morning Harry was awakened by the bedroom’s door banging open, and Cassy’s worried voice:

“Harry! You’re back so soon! What happened?”

Groggily, Harry opened his eyes and tried to get his bearings. He was immediately pulled into a hug by his mother, and he relaxed into the comfortable embrace, inhaling her familiar scent. He saw Joshua hovering behind Cassy, and gave him a smile.

“Sorry I’m here so soon… I just couldn’t stand that place any longer. The Weasleys were grieving”-wow, that sounded callous. And predictably, no one even batted an eye at that. Sometimes Harry almost wondered if anyone in his new family even had any morals… still, he tried to clarify, feeling bad for the ones he had viewed as a surrogate family for so long:

“I mean, their father died, and even though it was sort of his fault, it’s still sad, no? It’s just that, well, I wanted to get to know Sirius, and instead I’m stuck with a bunch of weirdos who won’t even let me leave the house… so yeah, it was a bit of a let down. There was even Lupin there, can you believe it! He actually tried to talk to me to ‘make amends’ or something a few times ‘cause he noticed I was really cold towards him… not that I let him catch me!”

Cassy squished Harry reassuringly one last time, and let him go. Smiling gently, she said:

“Well, now we can spend Christmas together! Merry Christmas sweetheart!”

Harry ducked his head, feeling suddenly shy, and mumbled the same. Joshua and Cassy shared a glance, Cassy cocking an eyebrow. Joshua nodded, an impish smile on his face, and his Mother turned around again with a predatory gleam in her eyes.

“Weeeeeell… since you’re here, you should know that we have this oh-so-special Christmas tradition between Joshua and I, and we have decided to let you in on it…”

Harry raised his head, looking at her in confusion, and immediately froze when he saw her fanged smile.

“TICKLE WAR!”

Harry’s eyes widened, and he didn’t even have time to move before he was tackled by two over-enthusiastic Bloodsingers.

* * *

Fenrir’s scowl deepened even more. Last night he had been exhausted, having patrolled the Camp’s border practically the whole day because a herd of Acromantula of all things had decided to make the forest their new nest. After a few managed to sneak way too close to the village for comfort a couple of days ago, they had had to first hunt down and then kill most of them. More than a few had escaped, hence the constant patrolling, small scuffles, and general exhaustion of most of the Camp.

So yesterday night, the second he had gotten home, he had jerked off, keeping his thoughts well away from a certain green-eyed Bloodsinger, and fallen asleep like a log. Then this morning he had overslept, and had hurried downstairs, not wanting to be on the wrong end of Joshua’s whines because he had delayed the opening of presents. Really, the little pest was such a kid sometimes.

And, in all this chaos, he hadn’t had time to just sit back and think about what happened the day before with Harry fucking Potter and what to do about it now. What he did know was the fact that it was almost completely his fault, and this really pissed him off to no end. He was a fucking Alpha, for Morgana’s tits! And he had practically attacked a kid that, no matter how annoying, was still, what, fifteen? Sixteen?

So, this translated into a huge scowl, which was deepening by the second, and a very surly demeanour. Aside from a general ‘Merry Christmas’ and a round of hugs, he had grunted maybe four words the entire morning, and had kept his distance from the others.

And why the fuck was Harry checking him out every two seconds? Sure, these jeans were tight, but not _that tight_! And he could be a bit more discreet about it… Fenrir was sure that Joshua had noticed, the perceptive little bugger.

“You should call it Timothy!”

Harry exclaimed, smiling and petting the Puffskein Fenrir had gotten Joshua for Christmas, since his last one had died years ago. Joshua had whined when he saw it, saying that he wasn’t a little boy anymore, but it was clear that he was secretly happy about it.

Fenrir snorted loudly. _Timothy?_ What the fuck?

Harry glared at him and snapped.

“Well, if you don’t like it, you could help finding a name!”

Uh. Maybe the kid was angry about his animosity level. Well, the little shit should have thought about it before behaving all horny and wanton. Really, it wasn’t Fenrir’s fault if he got burned when he played with fire.

“Yeah, well, I certainly can’t do worse than that you can I?”

The Werewolf sneered condescendingly, and Harry went white with rage. Not letting the kid get a word in, Fenrir continued:

“…maybe the reason you never had a fucking family who cared for you was because of your shitty mouth kid.”

Cassy’s jaw dropped in shock, and Joshua’s eyes bulged. Harry, for his part, had turned an ashen colour, and for a moment it looked like he was about to faint. Thinking back to what he had said, Fenrir paled, recognising it had been a low blow.

“S-sorry… I-I didn’t mean that Harry…”

Blinking, still shocked at his own words, Fenrir turned around and hurried out of the house before Cassy could start yelling and work herself into a rage, destroying half the Camp as collateral damage. And guiltily not wanting to see Harry’s hurt face a second longer.

Shit, he needed some fucking time alone, and he really needed to find a solution to all his shit _now_. Fuck, he hated grovelling, and he was almost certain that that was what it was going to take for the kid to forgive him for his stupidity.

* * *

Joshua was shocked at the level of vehemence that had sprouted out of Fenrir’s mouth out of the blue. Yes, he usually wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, and he could cut people down to size with only a few words, but that was a really low blow when Harry hadn’t done anything to deserve it. It really wasn’t Fenrir’s style.

Joshua looked back towards where Cassy was hugging Harry and murmuring something in his ear, looking depressed and broken-hearted at how Christmas Day was turning out. At least Harry had stopped crying, a fact which Joshua was selfishly happy about. That kid’s tears pulled at his heartstrings, and if Fenrir hadn’t stormed out, both Cassy and him would have probably attacked him. Sighing, Joshua wondered what had happened between Harry and Fenrir to make the Werewolf explode like that. Not to mention, Harry had been checking out Fenrir the whole morning. True, he had been dressed rather provocatively, but Joshua had never seen even the tiniest sliver of sexual tension between the two of them before today, despite the many barbs and taunts they had exchanged during the summer, and today Harry had looked at the man one time to many for it to be simple detached appreciation.

* * *

Fenrir came back hours later, while the other three were finishing their silent lunch, presents forgotten with Fenrir’s sudden departure.

Squirming under Cassandra’s and Joshua’s glares, Fenrir cleared his throat and asked Harry, who was staring at the tabletop, not wanting to meet the Werewolf’s eyes:

“Harry, can we talk a moment?”

Harry bit his lip and looked undecided, shooting an almost panicked glance at Cassandra, who gave him a small push towards the living room.

Fenrir closed the door behind him, and looked towards the kid, who was still avoiding his eyes, and looking small and fragile, just as he had when Mother had just stolen him from that horrible abusive family in July. Damn, but that made Fenrir feel even worse, as if he had kicked a kitten only because it had scratched him playfully on the nose.

“Harry… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I swear. You know right, that Cassy and Joshua consider you family? And I do too…”

Harry shrugged, still staring out the window at some Werewolf children who were building snowmen.

“Harry…”

Fenrir moved closer, and laid a hand on the kid’s shoulder, feeling him tense at the contact. Slowly, he turned him around and lifted his chin so that he was looking him in the eyes.

“I’m sorry for yesterday too. I mean, Merlin, I enjoyed it, but I never should have started anything, and then left without a word.”

“So, you regret it?”

Fenrir furrowed his brows, thinking about it, and explained:

“Well, no, not really. I just regret the consequences. I, well, I’m not really looking for a serious relationship, and I refuse to use you just as stress relief or something. You’re worth more than that.”

“Oh.” Harry nodded, and thought about it a bit, “I’m not ready for a serious relationship either… yeah, it would be weird to just be, you know, fuck buddies, or something… I hadn’t thought of that…”

Fenrir smiled slightly, and Harry answered in kind.

“For what it’s worth, I was having a very shitty day yesterday. And this morning too I guess.”

That brought a snort out of Harry, and the two of them headed back to the kitchen happier and much more relaxed than before. Cassandra paused as she was magically directing the plates to wash, and seeing a cheerful Harry and Fenrir, whose hand was still on Harry’s shoulder, she smiled hugely and started whistling a Christmas tune as she worked. Joshua sent them a more speculative glance, before nodding, and going back to petting Timothy without a word, but with a knowing glint in his eyes.


End file.
